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ST.   NICHOLAS 


'<•  V 


AN 


Illustrated      Magazine 


For  Young  Folks 


CONDUCTED    BV 


MARY     MAPES     DODGE. 


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


THE  CENTURY  CO.,  NEW  YORK 

MACMILLAN   AND  CO.,  LONDON. 


Copyright,  1904,  by  The  Century  Co. 


The  De  Vinne  Press. 


-^V.'Rf'VCc' 


ST.    NICHOLAS 


VOLUME    XXXI. 


PART  II. 

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


CONTENTS  OF   PART  II.  VOLUME  XXXI. 


PAGE 

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 


VI  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

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 


CONTENTS.  VI 1 

rAGE 

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 


VIII  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

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) \G.C.A.ng 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 


FRONTISPIECES. 

"  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. 


DEPARTMENTS. 

P.\GE 

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- 


'MERRILY,  MERRILY  SHALL  I  LIVE  NOW, 
UNDER  THE  BLOSSOM  THAT  HANGS  ON  THE  BOUGH." 


ST.    NICHOLAS. 


Vol.  XXXI. 


MAY,    1904. 


No.  7. 


MAGU.ALKN    TOWER    .AND    MAY    MORNING 


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. 
579 


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. 


580 


MAGDALEN    TfiWER    AND    MAY    MORNING. 


(Mav, 


MAGDALEN   BRIDGE    ^ND   TOWER    FROM    THE    RI\ER. 

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,  la.st  by  an-  Meanwhile,  outside  the  college,  upon  Mag- 
other  and    steeper    ladder,    her    English    com-     dalen  Bridge,  crowds  waited  to  hear  the  May 


MAtiDALEN    TOWER   FROM   THE    STREET. 


MAGIJALEX    TOWER    AND    MAY    MORNING. 


;Si 


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 
all. 

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 

I 


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 


THE   CHOIK    U.\    MAuDALliN    TOWER    SINGIN<j     \:     MNKl-^F, 


582 


MAGDALEN  TOWER  AND  MAY  MORNING. 


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 
springtime. 

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 


"CAPS    AND    GOWNS   OVER    THE    TOWER    BATTLEMENTS. 

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  ?  " 


THE    COMING   AND    THE    GOING    OF    PETE. 


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 
story. 

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 


583 


584 


THE    COMIN'G    AND    THE    GOING    OF    PETE. 


[May, 


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 


"  CANTING   WITH    EXCITEMENT   AND    FATI 


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 
wagon. 

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 


Hfc    LEAPED    UP    TO    MY    SHOLLDERS. 


'9<h] 


THE    COMING    AND    THK    GOING    OF    PETE. 


585 


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 


WTTi,,!, 


l3cn6o 


"HR    BRorr.HT    IT    I.\TO    CAMI'    AND   LAID    IT    AT    MV    FEET."       (SEE    fAC.E    586.) 

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 


586 


THE    COMING    AND    THE    GOING    OF    PETE. 


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. 


TOM'S    SUNSHINE    ENGINE. 


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 

587 


SHOWI.SG    FLV-WHEEL    AND    FLANGFD    DRIVING-WHEEL. 


588 


TOM  S    SUNSHINE    ENGINE. 


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 


THE    FLANGED    DRIVTNG-WHEEL. 


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. 


1004) 


TOM  S    SUNSHINE    ENGINE. 


589 


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  ?  " 


RtO'TH   NUGENT, 


FfC.    3.      THE   SUNSHINE   KNGINK   COMPLEIE. 

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. 


WHAT    ANOTHER   SUMMER    BROUGHT    TO    DENISE 
AND    NED    TOODLES. 


By  Gabrielle  E.  Jackson. 


■*  DENISE    RAISED    HER    HEAD    FROM    HER    HANDS    AND    LISTENED    FOR    THE    SECOND    CALL. 


WHAT    THE    WOOD-THRUSH    TOLD. 


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 

590 


DENISE    AND    NED    TOODLES. 


591 


••  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 


I 


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. 

AX    OLD    FRIEND    AND    A    NEW    ONE. 

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 


592 


DENISE    AND    NED    TOODLES. 


(May, 


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 
climb. 

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


f? 


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 


DENISE    AND    NED    TOODLES. 


593 


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 
ribbon. 

"  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. 


594 


DENISE    AND    NED    TOODLES. 


[May, 


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. 

HART. 

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


'9<Hi 


DENISE    AND    NED    TOODLES. 


595 


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 
birthday." 

"  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, 
heartily. 

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. 


596 


DENISE    AND    NED    TOODLES. 


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 
him. 

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  ) 


DENISE    AND    NED    TOODLES. 


597 


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-'«^ 


r^,v^ 


Al 


A   COMEDY    IN   WAX. 

(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, 


598 


A    COMEDY    IN    WAX. 


599 


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 


6oo 


A    COMEDY    IN    WAX. 


IMay, 


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 
called. 

"  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 
man. 

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- 
pered. 

"  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 
Lydia. 

"  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 
nutshell." 

"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?  " 


I904.1 


A    COMKDV     IN     WAX. 


60  I 


"TO    SHOW   THAT    HE    BURE   NO    MALICE,    LOUSHKIN    HOISTED 
TOM   IP  INTO  THE  TREE." 


"  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. 


76. 


602 


A    COMEDY    IN    WAX. 


(May, 


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- 
tance. 

"  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. 

LORIMER    GRI.MWEED  APPE.^RS. 

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 


1904.1 


A    COMEDY    IX    WAX. 


603 


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 


'THE  CELEBRITIES  WERE   WILD   FOR   FUN,   AND   WERE   BEHAVING   LIKE 
SCHOOUBOVS  SET  FREE   FROM    SCHOOL."      (SEE   PAGE   604.) 


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 


6o4 


A    COMEDY    IN    WAX. 


[May. 


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 
Rowley. 

"  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 
rescue. 

"  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. 


19041 


A    COMEDV    IX    WAX. 


605 


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." 


THE    COYOTE. 


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 


A    lAMlLV    OF    Ct_lVOTES     AT    HUME. 


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. 


607 


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. 


'"***^9S!S^B''w«»s.-- 


N'    .    '■  /  'M 


,;* 


PHAIBIE    FOES. 


6o8 


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 

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

run; 
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 

flew 
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- 
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 

hay. 
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 

shine 
Rose  a  butterfly  flapping  —  and  that  makes  g. 

"  Now  hurrah  for  the  fun  !    They  were  going  so 

fast 
That  the  little  red  school-house  they  almost 

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

wren, 
.\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?  " 


A    GIANT    IN    FEATHERS. 


Bv  John  R.  Coryell. 


lERRE  CH.-VR- 
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 
beach. 

"  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, 


A    GIANT    IN     I-KATIIERS. 


6X1 


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 
down. 

"  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 


I 


"  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." 


^m^ 


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. 


THE   FEAST   OF 
LAUGHTER. 


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 
laughter. 

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 
assembled 
In  the  tenth  month 
every  year. 
All  affairs  of  love  and 
wedlock 
In  the  whole  land 
of  Japan 
There    were    mooted, 
thereweresettled, 
On  a  wise  celestial 
plan. 

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- 
ers, 
/  Every  one  on  laughing 

bent. 

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 


THE    FEAST    OF    LAUGHTER. 


613 


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

L^^lJ^  J 

OBI 

^■jl 

i 

^^H 

Lfc-J 

1 

1 

^  MfsiL^^^S^^^ 

1 

1 

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

^^^^^^^^^l^^^^^^^^^^l 

^^^HBiiMk*^2»CM 

1 

■_ii 

1 

-^r*-.^ 

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 
town. 


^.^^.7T, 


■'Tr»»F 


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 
pathetically. 

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    HERO    OF    SAX    BENITO. 


615 


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- 
tant." 

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- 


6i6 


THE    HERO    OF    SAN    BENITO. 


LMay, 


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 


THE    HERO    OF    SAX    HliMTU. 


617 


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 


"  THfc    i-Ai>    *^JM--.HhU    OMi    STANZA    Ul-     lilt    SONO    AMJ    LEGAN    THt    SECOND, 

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 
out!" 

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- 
body! 

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 


■HE  CAUGHT   HIM    UP   AND   STAGGERED   OUT  ACROSS  THE  STAGE.' 


618 


THK    HERO    OK    SAN    BliMTO. 


619 


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. 


THE    PICTURE. 


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! 


^     THi:  BUILDING  OF 
THE    "BLACK    HAWK" 


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. 


KBElSqv 


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 


fW7^\ 

~Tna ^  *  tn  ~  ■' — wj~ 

STRIPS 

FIG.    2. 


KE^LSOA 


C/ioSS 

n/es 


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

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


12 4 


CONSTRUCTION    DI.AOKAMS  OF  THE  BLACK  HAIVK. 


622 


THE    BUILDING    OF    THE     "  BLACIC    HAWK. 


[May, 


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 «»  ■  ■  ■  it  ^-wf  - 

!■■■  -iJHIl^'" 


SKELETON    PLANS   OF   THE    BLAC k  HAWK 


THE    BL'ILDING    OF    THE 


HLACK     HAWK. 


623 


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 


A    UKV    SMI.. 


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 


624 


THE    BUILDING    OB     THE         BLACK    HaWK. 


(May, 


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 
inside. 


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 


THE  BLACK    HAWK  UNDER    FULL   SAIL. 


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    BUILDING    OK    TIIK    "  lU.ACK    HAWK. 


625 


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 
necessary. 

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 

$12.80 


Vol.  XXXI.— 79. 


pl^^^^ 

iS^^ 

I^^M 

BED-TIME. 

^^M 

^^^M 

By  Katharine  Pyle. 

^@wl 

^^^11 

GOOD  NIGHT  IN  THE  NURSERY. 

^^^y 

^li^^SS 

Now  all  the  little  toys  are  going  to  sleep, 

^^^^^ 

^^^^^w 

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

^^^sP 

s^^^IH 

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

B|^^^j| 

W'^m^^M 

The  curtains  have  been  drawn,  and  it  is  night. 

tyB^4 

^^^m 

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

H^^9^ 

Pa— ^  -^Sm 

TOMMY   TOYMAN. 


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. 


NOVEL    EXPERIENCES. 


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 

down. 
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  /  " 


627 


THE 


UNFORTUNATE     CONCERT. 


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    UNFORTUNATE    CONCERT. 


629 


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. 


A   DUTCH   TREAT. 


By  Amy  B.  Johnson. 


'VE  been  crying  again, 
father." 

"  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 


630 


A    DUTCH    TREAT. 


631 


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, 
Katharine." 

"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. 


"THE    WINDMILLS    WHICH    MET   THE    EVE    AT    EVERV   TURN,    WITH    THEIK   GREAl    ARMS    WAVlNu    IN     IHit  AlK. 


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 
you." 

"  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 


632 


A    DUTCH    TREAT. 


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- 
able. 

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. 


LITTLE   ^L\VKEX. 
633 


GKLILL   AM)    KATRINIl. 
634 


A    DUTCH    TREAT. 


635 


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 
mirror. 

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 


636 

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 


A    DUTCH    TREAT. 


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." 


THE  CHILDREN   OF  HOLLAND. 


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  ? 


IllDE-ANU-SEIiK. 


»>  311 


A   BLOOMING    BIRD. 


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<:. 


•'-n' 


X 


^ 


MAV-MOVING    IN    THE    WOODS:    "AH,    THIS    IS    THE    PLACE    FOR    IS  !  " 


/ 


/ 


TITO'S    HOME-MADE 
PICTURE-BOOK. 


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  ; 

i 


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 

know, 
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 
afloat. 

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. 


638 


TITOS    HOME-MADE    PICTrUE    T.OOK. 


639 


^^^k^^ 


PIGGY  TAKES   TKA    w  I  in    THE   UONKEV. 


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 

Goose, 
Who    said    she    would 

willingly  be  of  some 

use. 
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 
good. 


640 


TITOS    HOME-MADE    PICTURE-BOOK. 


[Mav, 


,   <st>  <*•   ' 


Lit 


PIGGY   CALLS    UN    HUMPTY  DT-'MPT^'. 


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. 


TITOS    HOME-MADE    PICTUKE-liOOK. 


641 


'7>i 


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

dread. 
Straight  back  to  their  sliadowy  woodhind 

they  ran, 
While  Piggy  gave  thanks  to  that  other  kind 

clan. 

^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 

side. 

Young  Ferryman  Frog  was  tlicrc  with  his 
/      punt. 

And  Piggy,  on  seeing  him,  gave  a  deep 

grunt. 
All  was  now  so  serene  that  his  troubles 

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


PIGGV   STARTS   FOR   PIGLAND. 


THE    BATTE-E    BETWEEN    THE    GOBILLILLlbS    AM)   1  HP.    PICCANINNIES. 


642 


TITOS    HOME-MADE    PICTURE-BOOK. 


[May, 


PIGGY    IS    CAST    INTO    PRISON    BY    THE   GOBILLILLIES. 


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 

him. 
Strike  out  for  the  bank. 

I    wish    you    good 

luck! 
But   I  must   beware  of 

that   greedy    white 

duck." 


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

And  a  kind  little  lamb 
reached  out  for  his 
hand. 


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 

be. 
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." 


"T^ 


c-; 


THE   MAN    IN    THE   MOON    RESCUES    PIGGV. 


THE    FROG   FERRIES    PIGGV   ACROSS   THE    RIVER. 


I904I 


TITOS    HOME-MADE    PICTURE-BOOK. 


643 


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 

grow, 
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 
bed." 


^^ 


X 


3^ 


r? 


X~~X<:~ 


^> 


^^1*^ 


'  BA-BA,    BLACK    SHEEP,       IS   KIND   TO    PIGGV. 


644 


TITOS    HOME-MADE    PICTURE-BOOK. 


[Mav, 


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


\ 


^s^r 


♦ 


»ti?r^- 


OLD    WOLF  GRAY   ROBS  PIGGY. 


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. 


THE  PIEMAN  FEEDS  PIGGY. 


I904. 


TITOS    HiiMK-MADK    PICTURE-BOOK. 


645 


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 
eyes. 

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


if- 

--'A.-  _ 


>^ 


<-*« 


^V 


V 


FOUR-AND-TWENTV   BLACKBIRDS   ATTACK   PIGGY. 


'  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. 


W 


flCCiV  ASKS    A    BOON   OF   OLD    KING  COLE. 


646 


TITOS    HOME-MADE    PICTURE-BOOK. 


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 

lies 
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. 


N    HER   BASKET. 


PIGGV    GETS    HO.ME. 


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  ! 


LIFE    ON     THE    MANTEL-SHELF 


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. 


647 


NATURE   AND 


THE    MOSQUITO. 

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

WHACK! 

"  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 


VlliEK    HOMES    OF    MOSQUITOS. 

Almost  anything  that  will  hold  water  is  acceptable. 
648 


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 


NATURE   AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


649 


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 


MOSQUITO  EGG  '*  BOAT,      OR 
'*  NEST."      (MAGNIFIED.) 
The  eggs  are  placed  on  end  and  packed 
closely  together  on  the  surface  of  water,  or  above,    jUSt    t)Ut 

few  little 


MOSQt;iTO  EGGS,   AND  LARV.E   HATCHING 
l-'ROM   THEM.      (MAGNIFIED.) 


on  wet  earth  where  puddles  occur.     Some- 
times as  many  as  400  eggs  are  in  one  mass,     jfj 


MOSQUITO  LAKV/E   \'. 
ALONG    THl- 


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 


.MOSQUITO   LAKV.t  WRIGGLERS. 
(.MAt.NlFIEP.) 

Those  at  the  surface  are  breathing  air 
through  their  air-tubes. 


650 


NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


[May. 


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 
inclined. 

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 


A    FAVORITE    ••  NESriNG  "-J'LACE    OF 

THE    MOSQUITO.  11         1    • 

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. 


A    MOSQUITO    EXPERIENCE. 

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 
tomato-can- 

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. 


NATLKE    AND    SCIIiNCE    KOK    Y(JUNG    FOLKS. 


WARRIOR    MOUND-BUILDERS. 

\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- 
tion. 

'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  crawfi.sh  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 
honor. 

Indeed,  the  term  "  crawfish  "  has  come  to 
mean  a  withdrawal,  a  backing  down  from  one's 


651 

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 


CRAWFISH    IN   THEIR   MOUNDS. 


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 


652 


NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


(  May, 


the  only  opening  being  the  entrance  to  the 
burrow. 

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. 


"^"BECAUSE:  WE 
I  WANT  TO  KNOW" 


A   SPARROW   WITH    CONSPICUOUS    WHITE    FEATHERS. 
\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- 


A   CRAWFISH    ON    THE    BANK    OF   A   STREAM. 


THE  VESPER-SPAKROW. 

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. 


NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


65: 


MiDDLKTOWN,    DEL. 

Dear  St.  Nicholas:  We  have  h.id  .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 
abundance. 

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  \' 


TH1-:   IIAIK. 


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 


634 


NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


|Mav, 


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 
phenomenon. 

BOMBARDIER-BEETLES. 

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 


/ 

y/- 


THE    BOMBARDIEK-BEETLE. 

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 
CarabidiC. 

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, 


>9o<) 


NATLRE    AND    SCIENCK     KOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


655 


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 
insects. 


THE   TRUE    WATtR-SPlDEK. 

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- 


THE   •'  BACK-SWIXWHER. 

This  is  an  insect,  not  a  spider,  but  this  and  the  "  water-boatman  ' 
are  sometimes  miscalled  "water-spiders," 


ijPAcHMftH^ 


"A    HEADING    I  i 


liV    HARRV    U.    LACHMAN,    A.,K    i;         (C\SM    PRIZE.) 


THE  ORIOLE'S  NEST. 

BY    PHILIP  STARK    (AGE    I4). 

{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 

breast. 
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 

still; 
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- 
sure. 

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 


656 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


657 


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  th.ink  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, 
El.I.KN  DlNWOODV. 


PRIZE-WINNERS, 

COMPETITION 

No.  53. 

In  making  awards, 
contributors'  ages  are 
consitlered. 

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, 
Cal. 

Prose.  Gold  badges, 
Florence  Elwell  (age 
15),  .XndiLT'.t,  Ma--... 
and  Mary  Elsie  New- 
ton  (age  13),  O.xfonl, 
Mass. 

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, 
Ohio. 

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 
.SONG. 

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  : 

"Bob-white!" 


A    WINTER    STUDV."       IIV    MURIEL   C.    EVANS,    AGE    16.       (GOLD    BADGE.) 


.MV  FAVORITE  STORY   I.\   MYTHOLOGY. 

BY    FLORENCE    ELWELL   (AGE    15). 

{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 


6.s8 


ST.    NICHOLAS    I.EAGUE. 


(May, 


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. 


• 

Ml 

•bitter  cold.  by    HAROLD    S.     SCHOFF,    AGE    17,        (GOLD    BADGE.) 


BITTER    COLD    OLTSIDE.  BY    ROBERT   ED\VARD    FITHIAN,    AGE    13.       (GOLD    BADGE.) 


THE  MINSTREL'S  NESTING  SONG. 
BY   ANNE   ATWOOD    (AGE    I3). 
(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 
banks. 
Where  cold  winds  never  blow  nor  gray  clouds 
frown, 
We  '11  nest  together  in  the  golden  spring. 
And  carol  daily  as  life's  sun  goes  down. 

MV  FAVORITE  EPISODE  IN  MYTHOLOGY. 

BY    .MARY   ELSIE   NEWTON    (AGE    I3). 

(Go/J  Baiige.) 

My  favorite  episode  in  mythology  is  the  story  of 
Prometheus. 

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- 
tion. 

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 
away. 

.\s  he  was  walking  by  the  shore  he  noticed  a  reed. 
He  saw  that  the  hollow  center  was  filled  with  a  dry 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


659 


lirrER   COLD."      OV    II.   \V.   II.   I'OWEL,  JR.,  AC;E    16.       (SILVER    BADGE.) 


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 
brings! 
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 
ni"li." 


pith,  which  would  burn  slowly  and  keep  on   fire  a  long 
time. 

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  h.id  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. 

THE   BIRD'S   NEST   IN    WINTER. 

BV   GLADYS  NELSON    (AGE    I3). 
{Siher  Badge.) 
On,  ye  little  architects,  ye  birds  by  summer 

known. 
Ye  fashioned  me  with  greater  skill  than  man 
has  ever  shown. 


MV    F.WORITE    EPISODE    IN    MYTHOLOGY. 

BY    CLARA   SHANAFELT    (AGE   12). 

(Silver  Badge. ) 

I  THINK  that  my  favorite  episode  in  mythology  is  the 
story  of  Phaeton  and  the  chariot  of  the  sun.  How 
natur.al  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 


*i;IiIEU    COLD.  liV    ELIZ.MIETH    HOWL.A.ND    WtliMEK, 

AGE    14.       (SILVER    BADGE.) 


66o 


ST.     NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[Mav, 


IkU- 


'  A    WINTER    STUDY. 


BV    DORIS    SHAW,    AGE     13.        (>IL\  EK    BADGE   ) 


Z^  She  sings   of   her  little 

home 
Under  the  eaves. 


Wlien    she    thinks    she    has 
made    it    just   so   every 
year, 
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- 
shine. 
She  sings  of  her  nest, 
She  sings   of  the   little 
eggs 
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. 

THE   SPARROW'S    NEST. 

BY    RAY    RANDALL    (AGE    I3). 

(  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. 


MV    FAVORITE    EPISODE    IN    MVTHOLOGV. 

BY    FRED   S.    HOPKINS    (AGE    IO). 

{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. 


I904-1 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


66 1 


E' 

•#\v\  In  \' 

w 

BVjrlf  1'  iw 

O^-' 

^^1                 ^^1  ^^m' "a^H 

fe.„ 

"   POSSfM.  '      BV   THURSTON    BROWN,   AGE   15.      (FIRST   PRIZE, 
**  WILD-ANIMAL  PHOTOGRAfH.") 

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  w.is  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 
Philemon." 

They  welcomed  people  in  their  old  house,  they  wel- 
comed people  in  their  new  house,  and  they  welcomed 
jieople  still. 

Tlir.    HUM  MING-BIRD'S   NliST. 

BY    IIAROI.n    R.   NORRIS    (aGK    II). 

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 
storm. 


'  WILD   UUCKS.' 


nv  hervev  hubel,  age  13.     (secu.nd  prue, 

"wild-bird   PHOTOGRAPH.") 


CHICKADEE.  BV    SAMLEL    DOW>E    BOBBINS,    AGE    16. 

(THIRD    PRIZE,    "wild-bird   PHOTOGRAPH.") 


-MV  FAVORITE  EPISODE  IN  MYTHOLOGY. 

BY   GLADYS   CARROLL   (AGE   1 3). 
(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. 


662 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[May, 


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. 


BITTER    COLD.  BY    KATHARINE    A.    MARVIN,    AGE    14. 

MY    NEST. 

BY    ALLEINE  L.\NGFORD    (.AGE    I5). 

{A  Former  Prize-winner. ) 

When'  in  the  west  the  sun  is  low. 

And  earth  is  filled  with  shadows 
deep, 
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. 

MV  FAVORITE  EPISODE   IN  MVTHOLOGV. 

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. 


A   WINTER    STCDV.  BY    SAML'EL  DAVIS   OTIS,    AGE    1 4 


1904. I 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


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 


*•  BlITEK   COLU.  BY    ELSA    VAN    NES,    AGE    I3. 

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 
P.an  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." 

THE    BOV   A.Nl)   THE    BIRD'S    EGGS. 

BY    KI.F.ANOR    R.  JOHNSON    (AGE    9). 

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. 


663 

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. 

MV   FAVORITE    EPISODE   IN    MYTHOLOGY. 

BY  MILDRED  STANLEY  FLECK  (AGE  9). 
\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 


BITTER  COLD.         BY   GERTKL'OE   M.   HOWLAND,   AGE   II. 

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  th.at 
came  within  its  reach.  To  slay  this  monster,  Bellero- 
phon set  forth  upon  Pegasus.     Bellerophon  soon  dis- 


664 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


'  HEADING    KOK    MAY. 


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   SEAWEED   NEST. 

BY    MARGUERITE    BORDEN    (AGE    I7). 

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. 


MY    FAVORITE    EPISODE 
MYTHOLOGY. 


IN 


[Mav, 

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- 
shore. 

There  he  found  a  tor- 
toise-shell. 

He  made  holes  in  it  and 
strung  across  it  sonte  bits 
of  seaweed.  Then  he  put 
it  to  his  lips  and  blew  upon 
it. 

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. 

THE    NEST. 
BY    MABEL   FLETCHER    (AGE    17). 
(.4  Former  Prize-winner.) 
Lodged  in  a  crotch  of  our  tall  tree. 


BY    GEORGE    KEARNEY    (AGE  8). 

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- 
cups. 

She  touched  the  apple-trees,  and  the  sweet-smelling 
blossoms  came  out. 

In  the  lovely  month  of  May  Maia  takes  her  walk. 


*  A   WINTER   STUDY. 

BV    DOROTHY   HOLT, 

AGE    10. 


It  hung  the  summer  through, 
-And  there  the  old  birds  sang 

and  chirped, 
-And  there  the  young  ones 

grew. 


-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 
home 

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. 


"HEADING  FOR 

MAY."  BV  KATH- 
ARINE ELIZABETH 
BUTLER,  AGE  13. 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


665 


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. 


MY 


FAVORITE    EPLSODE   IN 
MYTHOLOGY. 


BY   MADELINE    P.   TAYLOR    (ACE   I3). 

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  th.it  it  was  a  dangerous  journey. 


"A   WINTER   STUDY."      liV   HERDERT   MARTINI,   AGE 

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. 


"A    WI.STER    STUDV.  BY  ALAN    ADAMS,    At.E    II. 

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 
Lyra. 


THE   ROBIN'S   NEST. 

BY    MADELEINE   FULLER   MCDOWELL 
(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. 


THE   OSTRICH'S   EGG. 

HY    JOSEPHINE    WHITBECK    (AGE    lo). 

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. 


666 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[May, 


'heading   for    may."      by    STANISLAUS    F.    McNEILL,  AGE    13. 


THE    ROtli    OF 
HONOR. 

No.  I.  A  list  of 
those  whose  work 
would  have  been 
published  had  space 
permitted. 

No.  2.  A  list  of 
those  whose  work  en- 
titles them  to  honor- 
able  mention  and  en- 
couragement. 

VERSE  I. 

Anita  M.  Bradford 
Melicent  Eno  Huma- 

son 
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- 
wood 
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- 

kleford 
Jeannie  R.  Sampson 
Marguerite  Eugenie 

Stephens 
Ethelinda  Schafer 
Marguerite  Stuart 
Helen  Spear 

VERSE  2. 

Eleanor  Myers 
Marie  Louise  Mohr 
Lucia  Warden 
Gertrude  E.  Ten 

Eyck 
Noeline  Haskins 
Samuel  A.  Hartwell 
Gwindelene  Le  Mas- 
sen  a 
Lois  Gilbert  Suther- 
land 
Elizabeth  P.  Bigelow 
Sadie  Gellman 
Gertrude  Madge 
George  Warren  Brett 
F.  G.  Nichols 


Viola  Cushman 
Maijorie  Marrin 

Blatchford 
Marie  Armstrong 
Kathryn  Macy 
Walter  S.  Mar\-in 
Kathr>'n  Sprague  De 

Wolf 
Edward  Ridgely 

Simpson 
Marjorie  Macy 
Mildred  S.  Martin 
Lucy  B.  Scott 
Marguerite  Helen 

Uhler 
Alice  Bartholomew 
Mary  Patton 
Jane  M.  Graw 
Katherine  S.  Farring- 

ton 
Irwin  H.  Freeman 
Jack  Howard 
Marguerite  M. 

Jacque 
Rebecca  Faddis 
Jessie  Freeman  Foster 
Elizabeth  Lee 
Bernice  Frye 
Sybil  Kent  Stone 
John  Sherman 
Edith  Louise  Smith 
Dorothy  P.  M. 

Salyers 
Gertrude  L  Folts 
Emily  Rose  Burt 
Gladys  Knight 

PROSE  I. 

Margaret  Douglass 

Gordon 
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 

Pardee 
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 

Brunt 


Genevieve  Morse 

Edward  J.  Sawyer 

Fred  Baruch 

Elsa  Clark 

William  Nelson 

Harriette  Kyler 
Pease 

Katherine  Kurz 

Eleanor  Espy  Wright 

Zenobia  Camprubi 
Aymar 

Mildred  Newman 

Alma  Wiesner 

Rosalie  Ayleit  Samp- 
son 

Ona  Ringwood 

Gertrude  Louise  Can- 
non 

Helen  C    Wilcox 

Jean  N.  Craigmile 

Ivy  Varian  Walshe 

Helen  J.  Simpson 

Lola  Hall 

Kenneth  E.  Day 

Agnes  Dorothy 
Campbell 

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 

PROSE  2. 

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- 
drews 

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 
Field 

Marion  L.  Decker 

Edith  Pine 


Roth  Clansing 

Dorothy  Ferrier 

Mary  Peraberton 
Nourse 

May  Henrietta 
Nichols 

Alfred  H.  Sturtevant, 
Jr. 

Edna  Wells 

Margaret  Jacques 

Caroline  Ballard  Tal- 
bot 

Ruth  Ashmore  Don- 
nan 

Lenora  Branch 

Mary  Washington 
Ball 

Kathleen  A.  Burgess 

Hilda  M.  Ryan 

Margaret  Grant 

Rose  Marie  Wise 

Jean  Russell 

George  Huntington 
Williams,  Jr. 

Ruth  S.  Goddard 

Nellie  Foster 
Comeg>'s 

Katharine  Monser 

Madelaine  Bunze 

Robert  W.  Wood 

Robert  Hammer- 
slough 

Lydia  B.  Ely 

Phillippa  E.  Ridgely 

Clara  B.  Fuller 

Simon  Cohen 

William  Laird  Brown 

Henry  Goldstein 

Marcia  Frances  Gund- 
lach 

DRAWINGS  I. 

Helena  B.  Pfeifer 
Marjorie  Rigby 
Mary  T.  Atwater 
Beatrix  Buel 
Byron  B.  Boyd 
Newton  Rigby 
Margery  Bradshaw 
J,  S.  Lovejoy 
Dorothy  Sherman 
Katherine  Dulcebella 

Barbour 
Bennie  Hasselman 
Katherine  Gibson 
Helen  O-  Chandler 
William  C.  Kennard 
Olive  Mudie  Cooke 
Beatrice  Darling 
Margaret  Wood 
Thomas  Nast  Craw- 
ford 
Eleanor  Keeler 
Theodore  L.  Fitz- 

simons 
Bessie  T.  Griffith 
Florence  Marion  Hal- 

kett 
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- 
man 
Helen  A.  Fleck 
Florence  Murdoch 
Lucy  E-  B.  Mac- 
kenzie 
Mildred  Curran  Smith 
Jessie  C.  Shaw 
Marguerite  Wood 

DRAWINGS  2. 

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 

Crawford 
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- 
borough 
Lawrence  H.  Phelps 
Louise  Paine 
James  Allison 
Ernest  Whipple 
Linda  Scarritt 
Margaret  Richardson 
J.  Dunhana  Town- 
send 
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 

Norwood 
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 

Nourse 
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 

Hutchings 
Thomas  H.  Foley 
Rachel  Rude 

PHOTOGRAPHS  i. 

Mildred  R.  Betts 
Paul  W.  Haasis 
Grace  Archer 
Be.=sie  P.  Frick 
Samuel  Stocker 
Nora  Saltonstall 
H.  Clayton  Beaman, 

Jr. 
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- 
dan 
Eugene  W,  Scar- 
borough 
Lucie  Freeland 
Lewis  Wallace 
Suzette  Ryerson 
Zelie  M.  Eberstadt 
Cameron  Squires 
Henrietta  T.  Scott 
Robert  V.  Morse 
Alice  Garland 
William  George  Cur- 
ran 
Kenneth  Howie 

PHOTOGRAPHS  2. 

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 


PUZZLES  I. 

Burt  H.  Smith 
MnrEuerite  Hallowell 
W.  N.   raft 
Charlotte  Morrison 
Margaret  Abbott 
Wilham  Newton 

Coiiptand 
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 


PUZZLES  7. 

Benjamin  BerT>',  Jr. 
Paul  D.  Bailey 
Florence  Foster 
Elizabeth  Palmer 

Lopcr 
Charles  R.  Van  Nos- 

trand 
Adeline  Thomas 
Elizabeth  B.  Randall 
Lucile  C.  McHen 
Bessie  T.  Tappan 
Albert  A.  Bennett,  Jr. 
Helen  Howard 
Bruce  Htnman 
Marj^ret  McKnighl 
Archibalds.  Macdon- 

ald 

CHAPTKRS. 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


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, 
N.J. 

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. 

LEAGUE   LETTERS. 

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- 
worm. 

I  have  a  "  Brownie"  camera,  but 
do  not  lake  good  enough  photos  to 
send  to  you.  I  hope  to  some  day, 
though. 

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 
prison. 

Your  loving  reader, 
Gladys  Virginia  STEUART(age  la). 


"TAILPIECE    FOR    ,MAY."      BY   MARGARET    REEVE,    AGE    7. 


667 

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. 

PRIZE   COMPETITION   NO.  56. 

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 
August. 

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 
August." 

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.  Nichol.as. 

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. 

RULES. 

-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. 


BOOKS    AND    READING. 


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 

ENT'S  VIEWS  ON      , 

"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 


£68 


BOOKS   AND    READING. 


669 


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  "  rc.td  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 
laziness. 

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  ? 


THE   LETTER-BOX. 


EDITORIAL   NOTE. 

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 
about. 

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 
them. 

On  the  whole,  however,  we  all  hope  to  go  back  next 
summer. 

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  sp.ice  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. 


670 


ANSWERS  TO    rUZ/Ll  -^ 


HIE  Ai'RIL   NUMBER. 


Word-square,  i.  Lilac.  3.  Image.  3.  Label.  4.  Agent.  5. 
Celts, 

A  Magic  Squarb.  Bcpin  at  second  L  in  lowest  line:  "  Ivoui- 
siana  Purchase  Exposition."  Begin  at  J  in  top  line:  "Jefferson 
and  Napoleon." 


fs 

iF.,F.  X  MAI    1  1>  K 

'ly:<  V  I  N  1.  1  y 

JiNAOT  AIR/VP'S 

(■  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- 

MIN  S-MITH. 

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- 
9- 


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. 
Salad. 

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.ee,  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  go.it.and  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. 


CHARADE. 

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. 

FLORE.NCE   R.    FA.XO.N. 

DOUBLE  DLAMOND. 

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 


DOlTnLR   BEHEADINGS. 

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- 
noun. 

The  initials  of  the  thirteen  little  words  will  spell  two 
familiar  words. 


MARGUERITE  HALLOWELL  (League  Member). 


67X 


6;: 


THE    RIDDLE-BOX. 


CONCEALED    KITCHEN   TTENSII-S. 

(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. 

DOUBLE   DIAGONAL. 

{Gold Badge,  St.  Nicholas  League  Competition.) 


I 


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. 

ELIZABETH   B.    BERRY. 


CENTRAL   SYNCOPATIONS. 

(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. 

HENRY    MORGAN    BROOKS. 


DOUBLE    ZIGZAG. 


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. 

JOHN   DUNTON   KEYES. 

TRIPLE  BEHEADINGS. 

{.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- 


1 

14   2 

■  15 

3 
16 

4 

17 

5 

18 

20 

6  '. 
19  7 

21 

9 

22 

10 

■  23 

II 

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). 


THE    DE    VINNE    PRESS,  NEW    YORK. 


85-86. 


THE  SHUTTLECOCK  WAS  CAUGHT  AND  RETURNED  BY  ELEANOR  WITH   A  DEFTNESS 
THAT  COMES  FROM   HAVING  A  KEEN  EYE  AND  A  QUICK  HAND." 


ST.   NICHOLAS. 


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  mas.ses  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  tho.se  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. 
675 


676 


THE    SHUTTLECOCK    OF    FATE. 


[June, 


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 
Eleanor. 

"  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- 


1904.1 


Till-:    SHUTTLECOCK    OK    KATE. 


677 


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 
pantry. 

"  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 
badness." 

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  deftne.ss  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- 
quet. 

"  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 


678 


THE    SHUTTLECOCK    OF    FATE. 


[June 


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, 


I904.) 


THE    SHUTTI.KCOCK    OF    FATE. 


679 

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," 


68o 


THE    SHUTTLECOCK    OF    FATE. 


[JlNE, 


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. 


'THREE   COLLEGE   GIRLS   WHO   CHL'MMED   AND    ROOMED   TOGETHER. 


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 


>90<1 


Till-:    SHCTTI.IXOCK    UK    KATK. 


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 
Conklin." 

"  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  " 


MEADOWING. 


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." 
682 


MARY  S     MKADdWING. 

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  ! 


683 


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 


684 


UMITRV. 


685 


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- 
ulously. 

"  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. 


686 


DMITRY. 


IJlNE, 


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 
.stormy.' 

" '  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 
asleep. 

" '  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  ?  ' 


'9<h1 


DMITRY. 


687 


"  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.' 


IIILN     l'MITK\     sTF-il'EP    Ol    1     INTO    TMK    I.UjIM 


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 


688 


DMITRY. 


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 


"DMITRY    HURRIED    FORWARD    AND    THREW    HIMSEIF    AT    THE    FEET   OF    IHK    PRINCE.*' 

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. 


MISTRESS   FLYNN  AND  THE    POT   OF   GOLD. 


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 
community. 

"  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 


690 


MISTRESS    FLYNN    AND    THE    POT    OF    GOLD. 


[June, 


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. 


MISTRESS   FLYNN   DISCOVERS  A   FAIRY   RING. 

"  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.) 


>904] 


MISTRESS    FLYN.V    AM)    THE    I'OT    OE    GOLD. 


691 


'•  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'  pa.st  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." 


692 


MISTRESS    FLYXN    AND    THE    POT    OF    GOLD. 


[Jl-ne, 


"  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    « 
rage. 

IL 

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 


'904) 


MISTRESS    FLVNN    AM)    THE    POT    OK    GOLD. 


693 


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/ 


FIDO    (FROM    BEHIND    THE   COul'):    "LOOK   OUT,    TOWSER.       THEV     "LL   BITE   YOU  !  " 


HOW  TO  KEEP  A  BASE- 
BALL SCORE. 


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 


694 


HOW    TO    KEEP    A    BASEBALL    SCORE. 


695 


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 


vv\ 


WARMING   UP  BEFORE   THE  GAME. 


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 


696 


HOW    TO    KEEP    A    BASEBALL    SCORE. 


[JlfNE 


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. 


Clubs 


..s/,J:-§. 


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, 
jointly. 

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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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 

:>corer 


It  W.ishincton,  E 

....Double 

Time  of 


Plays. 
Oame. 


'9^4  1 


HOW    TO    KEKP    A    I5ASKHAI.I,    SCORK 


697 


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. 


Crubs 


....  v/t'tvxL.^w^i:^ 


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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. 

Double 

'.Time  of 


Plays  '■*»"?  1 


Qamt.i/.^t^ 


oc 


By  Margaret  Johnson. 


EFORE     the     British 
Hon  had  met  the 
unicorn, 
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 

CARADOC.  '  Jr. 

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 
roam 
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 ; 

698 


r.\R.\noc. 


699 


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 

slejjt 
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 
shade. 

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, 


IT  WAS   VERY   STILL  AND  LONELY,    FOR   HIS 
BABY    SISTER    SLEPT." 


\\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 
stood. 

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. 


700 


CAKADOC. 


[Jl'ne, 


Now  a   tramp,  though    Early   English,   still  is 
not  a  welcome  guest, 
And  't  was  plain  his  plans  were  sinister  and 
deep. 
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  !  " 


'  HIS    MAMA    WAS   MAKING   CALLS 
ON    SOME    NEIGHBORS   WHO   WERE    GAULS.' 


On  he  came  without  delay  in  his  Early  English 
way. 
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 
unkind, 
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 ! " 


1904. 


CARADOC. 


701 


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! 


702 


CARADOC. 


[June, 


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  ! 


TAKE    IT,    SONNY,    AND    BE   GOOd!'  " 


»9<H) 


CARADOC. 


70'- 


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 
cow, 
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  ? 


'  HIS  MAMA  SHE   HUGGED   AND    KISSED    HIM    IN    HER    EARLY   ENGLISH   WAY. 


BLUE-EYED    GRASS. 


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. 


A    COMEDY    IN   WAX. 

{Begun  in  the  Noz'fmbt'r  nuiitbcr.) 


By  B.  L.  Farjeon. 


Chapter   XXII. 

A    PAIR    OF    ARCH-CONSPIRATORS. 

rVIDENTLY  Lori- 
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." 


*'  MME.    TUSSAUD    SMILED    KNOWINGLY   AT    HLM. 

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 


A    COMEDY    IN    WAX. 


705 


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 
deeds." 

"  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- 
umphantly. 

"  No  more,  cousin.  Mme.  ma  tante  Sallir 
plays  us  false.  We  have  had  enough  of  the 
jade." 

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 
know." 

"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 


© 


'A   TOfRNEY  — A  TOURNEV  ! 


HE  CRIED. 


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  ?  " 


7o6 


A    COMEDY    IN    WAX. 


[June, 


"  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" 


"UlCHARD    111    MISSED    WITH    HIS    FIRST   AND    SECOND    STICKS,    BUT   WITH    HIS   THIRD    SMASHED    THE    PIPE." 


"  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- 
saud. 

"  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  ?  " 


A    COMEDY    IX    WAX. 


707 


•■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 
oft"!" 

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  gla.ss  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. 

WHAT    LONDON    THOUGHT    OF    IT. 

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 


7o8 

the  newspapers  came  out  with  great  head-hnes 
in  the  very  boldest  type : 

EXTRAORDINARY    DISCOVERY 

IN 

MME.  TUSSAUD'S 
WORLD=RENOWNED   EXHIBITION!! 


A    COMEDY    IN    WAX. 


(Jl'NE, 


THE  MOST  THRILLING  AND  AMAZING 
MYSTERY  ON  RECORD!!! 


MME.    TUSSAUD    VANISHED! 


HER  CELEBRITIES  GONE!! 


WHAT  HAS  BECOME  OF  THEM? 


HUMAN  BEINGS  IN  THE    PLACE    OF  WAX  !  ! 


ARE  THKY  ALIVE,  OR  NOT? 

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 


A    COMEDV     I\     WAX. 


709 


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 
doors. 

Perhaps  the  strangest  feature  in  the  mystery 
was  the  condition  of  the  human  beings   who 


■  I-\    HIS    IMl'ATIENCE,    LOklMEK    GMIMWEED   PUU  ED   THE    DOOR    WIDE  OPEN  —  AND 
THE  NEXT   MOMENT  HE  WAS   ROLLING  ON  THE   FLOOR." 


Yard.      Here  was  fresh  sensation  for  the  news- 
papers. 

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 
time. 


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 


yio 


A    COMEDY    IN    WAX. 


[June, 


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 


"  ARMIES  OF  BILL-POSTERS  WENT  ALL  THROUGH  LONDON  AND  POSTED  ON  THE  WALLS  IM- 
MENSE BILLS  OFFERING  REWARDS  FOB  THE  RETUKN  OF  THE  MISSING  CELEBRITIES." 


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- 
saud. 

"  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 


J9<M.l 


A    COMEDY     IN     WAX. 


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 


711 

evident  she  did  ;  and  Cromwell  wanted  to  know 
why  he  was  valued  at  £^^0  less  than  the  tyrant 
kings. 

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.) 


AT  GRANDPA'S  FARM. 


'^-■'&  ■ 


BM&^^00Mm 


'COUSIN   NELLV*S    SCHOOL  CLOSED   VESTERDAV.    AND   SHE    WILL    BE    HERE   THIS    AFTERNOON.' 


BHALU"— THE    INDIAN    JUNGLE    BEAR. 


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 


lillAI.r    TIIK    INDIAN    JUNGLK    DEAR. 


713 


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 
times. 

His  scientific  name  is  Mtlursus  tirsiiitis,  and 
by  the  natives  of  India  he  is  called  Bhalu. 


BUT  THREE   IS  A   CKOWD. 


Vol.  XXXI. 


-90. 


THE    OWL   AND    THE    LARK. 


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. 


m 


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  ?  " 
714 


7  i<  IJ-  '^vy''>M*'yf^Vy!W-r-1^ 


'xWf^'  :-\ 


>).  1 


Tin:    nwi.    AND    TIIK     I.ARK. 


715 


5"^ 


'-  •  /'■ 


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. 


HOW   TEDDY    HELPED. 


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. 


j^?*^' 


716 


ARfeyBBmiRjddk 


^^^^^^.  •  ■-■-'.i^ipiijj^^r: 


■Qiasp"*' \ 


4^^    e 


nin©s  4i]iQ 


d.d  ror  b4lbies.§©©d  for'felWes 


r^^^^'^^. 


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 , 


'^^"^'^.^.        ^"-:'.. 


*^^#--^ 


LITTLE  MOLLY'S  DREAM;   OR,  AN  IDEAL  PARK. 


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  !  " 


718 


A    LEAF"  FROM   THE    PAST. 


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 
braiding. 

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. 


*YES,    RAFFLES,    1     VE    HAD   TO   TIE    YOU,    BUT    IT     S    ONLY    FOR   A    MINUTE        SO   PLEASE    SIT    STILL  AND    LOOK    PLEASANT  I 


FUN    AMONG   THE    RED    BOYS. 


By  Julian  Ralph. 


ARIOUS  as 
are  the  cus- 
toms of  the 
Indians,  it  is 
theirsavage, 
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 
warriors. 

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. 


721 


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, ' 


ONONDAGA   INDIAN    BOVS    PLAYING    AT 
"  SNOW-SNAKES." 


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 


FUN    AMONG    THE    RED    BOVS. 


[Jl-ne, 


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- 


VOU    SHOULD   HAVE    SEEN    THE   STAMTEDE    THAT   FOLLOWED   THE    SIGNAL,    '  UO 


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 


FUX    AMOXG    TlIK    RKl)     Hi  >VS. 


7^2, 


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 
captured. 

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 
laughter. 

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. 


THE    LITTLE    DUKE    OF    DORSET. 


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 
arithmetic. 

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 


=.) 


TIIK    LTTTLE    DUKF.    OF    DORSFT. 


725 


GKURCE  JOHN    FNl 


1  H    DIKE    OF    DOKSKT. 


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. 


A    SPARROW'S    NEST    IN    A    LION'S    MOUTH. 


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?  " 


A    PUiMV    PASSENGER     FRAIX. 


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. 


THE   LAUNCHING   OF    THE    WATER  KELPIE. 


WHAT  ANOTHER  SUMMER  BROUGHT  TO  DENISE 
AND  NED  TOODLES. 


By  Gabrielle  E.  Jackson. 


Chapter  IV. 


THE    SUNSET    HOUR. 


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 
possess. 

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 


DENISE    AND    NED    TOODLES. 


729 


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. 


730 


DENISE    AND    NED    TOODLES. 


fJUNE, 


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 
hedge. 

"  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 
varnish. 

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 


•904l 


DENISE    AND    NED    TOODLES. 


73^ 


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 
river. 

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. 

POKEY    AND    .-V    CIRCUS. 

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 


732 


DENISE    AND    NED    TOODLES. 


IJUNE, 


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 
there. 

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 
world." 

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 
children. 

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 
reply. 

"  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 


"904j 


DKNISK    AM)    XEI)    TOODI.ES. 


733 


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' , 

(jeepj/(5<5,wly,(2{fe'rpill£\r. 

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,^  . 


jkJ 


Mmafc 


'mM-Wi 


m 


0^\ 


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  '-'-^--  '" 


JtScc 


;'l^'': 


jpmc Times  a  man  cannol  ffeep   cooL, 
wieu  be   has   ^rareroenra    to   convey; 
Jjvt   y^es  hand  or  arr>?  as   tool     . 

n.  dl«)pl 
i)etrci> 


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'  . 


"To- 


y°^5' 


avec   UTX    pea 


de.  <:;<>^ce_! 


■^^^/---=^ 


MISS    HAIRPIN    TO    MISS   THIMBLE:      *'MV    DEAR,    IF    I    WERE   VOU    I    WOULD  N  T    ASSOCIATE    WITH    MISS 
MAGNIFVING-GLASS.       VOU  'VE   NO    IDEA   OF  THE    WAV   SHE    EXAGGERATES    EVERVTHINt, ! " 


REARING   A   WREN    FAMILY. 


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 


IZ^ 


REARING    A    WREN    FAMILY. 


(June, 


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 


1^4.] 


ri:ari\(;  a  wrkx  family. 


737 


**  CATCHING    IN    THE    BRANCHES    BF.I.OW    WHERE 
THE    FATHER    PERCHED." 

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 


■'HIS    FEAlHEKs    KLi-f-Lfc.D    Li     t.\    ANoKK    AND   AN    ASTONl^HEn    PEEP 
OF  DISGUST   ESCAI'ED  HIS  THROAT." 

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 


73^ 


REARING    A    WREN    FAMILY. 


[June, 


IN    A    FLASH    BOTH    WRENLETS    WERE    WIDE    AWAKE    AND    ON    THE    TIP!  OE    OF    EXPECIAKCY. 


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 
wife. 

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 


I90<.1 


KEAKINC;    A    WKKN     lAMlI.V. 


"39 


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 
carried. 

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. 


'•  MERCY  !   SUCH   A   REACHING  AND  STRETCHING!" 


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 


740 


REARING    A    WREN    FAMILY. 


[June, 


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 


■904-) 


REAKINC.    A    \VK1:N     IAMILV. 


741 


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. 


^,f 


BUTTERFLY    DAYS. 


JOHNNIKY    VAN    AND    THE    CANNIBAL    MAN. 


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. 


A£f. 


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, 
sir, 
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! 


lOIINNlKV    VAX    AM)    TIIF.    CANMi;AI.    MAX. 


743 


"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  ! 


THE    RAIN    RAINS    EVERY   DAY. 


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  NATURE-^Nc^ClENCE 
4  FOR  YOUNG  FOLKS  m^  :s.r 


'-^^•^^T 


EDITED     BY 

EDWARD  r.  BIGELOW 


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. 


FOX-FIRE. 


,  ,-,        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 
fox-fire. 

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 
thoroughly. 

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. 


NATt'RE    AND    SCIKNCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


■45 


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." 

TINY  WINGS  BEAUTIFULLY  ORNAMENTED. 

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. 


FRINGE   OF   HAIR-LIKE   SCALES   ON   THE   EDGE  AND  ON   THE   VEINS 
OF  THK   WING  OF  A   MOSQUITO. 


746 


NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


[June 


RADIUM. 

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. 


A    PIECE   OF    PITCH-BLENDE,   THE    MINERAL    FROM    WHll 
RADIUM    IS    OBTAINED. 


PHOTOGRAPH    MADE    BV   THE    RAYS    FROM    THE    PIECE   OF   PITCH-BLENDE 
PICTURED    AT   THE    BOTTOM    OF   THE   PRECEDING   COLUMN. 


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 


1904. 


NATURE    AND    SCIENXE    1-OR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


747 


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 


l-IEKKt   tUKIK    AND    M.MK.    SKLODOWSKA    CURIE    <THE   niStOVEREKS   OF    RADIUM),    \VI  i'»    THEIR    IJAUGHTER    IRENE, 
IN   THE  GARDEN   Op  THEIR   HOME  NEAR   PARIS. 


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 


748 


NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


[June, 


PHOTOGRAPH    OF   A    PIECE   OF    WELSBACH    MANTLE   TAKEN    BY 
ITS    OWN   INVISIBLE    RAYS. 


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. 

THE     FIGHTING-BEETLES. 

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. 


THE    SOLDIER-BEETLE. 


NATURK  AND  SCIEN'CE  FOR  YOUNG  FOLKS. 


749 


^"BECAUSE-  WE 
[want  to  KNOW" 


CATERPILLARS    IN    EARLY    SPRING. 

Wii.i.DUGiiiiY,  Ohio. 
Dear   St.  Nicholas:    I  would  like  to  ask  you  a 
question.     Will  you  tell  me,  please,  why  caterpillars  are 


A    STRING    t  ATtKI'ILI-AK. 


sometimes  seen  moving  around  on  the  ground  in  the 
early  springtime?     Why  are  they  not  in  cocoons? 

FlOKENCE    C.  Cl.ARK. 

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. 


EARTHWORMS   ON    THE    SIDEWALK. 

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.  .\. 


EARTHWORMS    ON 
THE    LAWN. 

-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. 


AN   HARTHWORM    KF.ACHING  OUT  OF 
ITS    HOLE    TO    FEED. 

.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 


750 


NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


[Jl'NE, 


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. 


-^v 


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 
interest. 

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. 

QUICK    "growth"    of    A    SPANISH    ONION. 

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. 


A    PHOTOGRAPH    OF    A    SPANISH    O.NION    ONE-HALP    HOL  R    AFTER    If    WAS   GUI    IN    TWO. 


I904-1 


NATLKE    AXU    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


/O' 


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. 


"T*.. 


'ANOTHER    BIRD    BCII.T   A    NEST    IN    THE    EAVES   TROUGH    ON    MY    HOME.' 


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. 


"A   HEADING    FOR   JUNE."      BY    MURIEL   C.    EVANS,    AGE    l6.       (FORMER    PRIZE-WINNER.) 


A   JUNE   SONG. 
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. 
dils. 

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. 


COMPANIONS.        BY  FANNY  C.  STOKER,  AGE  l6.     (GOLD  BADGE.) 

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. 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


75: 


PRIZE-WINNERS,    COMPETITION    NO.  54. 

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. 

A  JUNE  SONG. 

BY  SAIDEE  E.   KE.N.NEDY  (AGE  I7). 
{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 
romp, 

Hut  hovered  here  and  there. 
Just  like  a  big  blue  butterfly 

With  shining  golden  hair. 

.•>he  ]>lucked  the  daisies  as   they 
grew 
.\-smiling  'midst  the  green  ; 
Then  suddenly  she  spied,   quite 
near, 
.\  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  w.is  loud  and  long 
And  rendered  with  great  skill. 
It   woke   the   echoes, 
and  they  rang 
From  every  distant 
hill. 

Miss  Arabella?   AYell, 
the  last 
I  saw  of  that  small 

girl 
Was   just   a   piece  of 
flying  l)lue 
.Vnd      fast-receding 
curl. 


COMPANIONS."     BY   SARA    HOMANS,  AGE    II.      (COLD   BADGK.) 


.\  FAMILY  TkADlTlON. 
HY  JEA.NMK  RI^AI)  SAMPSON  (AGE  I4). 
{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. 


NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


'  REFLECTIONS, 


MAKV   GOLDTHWAITE,    AGE    l6.       (GOLD    BADGE.] 


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. 

A   JUNE   SONG. 

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 

A  FAMILY  TRADITION 
OF  COURAGE. 

BY  CATHARINE  H.  STRAKER 
(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. 


REFLECTIONS.  BY    CFKI" 

(GOLD 


[Jl-NE, 

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. 

A  JUNE  SONG  IN  WINTER. 

BY    MARGARET    S  lEVENS  (AGE  13). 

(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. 

A  FAMILY  TRADITION. 

BY    SOI'HRONIA    MOORE 
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 
pass. 

Neither  the  St.  Lawrence 
nor  Lakes  were  sufficiently 
hard  to  bear  sleigh  or  horses, 
and  the  despatches  required  haste  and  immediate  con- 
veyance. 

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. 


KCDE    M.     HOWLAND,     AGE     II. 
BADGE.) 


•9°4) 


ST.     NICHOLAS    I.KAfUK 


/O.I 


anil  started  from  Qucliec,  on  the  .St.  Law- 
rence. 

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\\ 
York. 

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. 

A  JUi\E  SONG. 

HV   ANNA   C.    HEFFF.RX    (AGK    12). 
{^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 
whose 
This  duty  but  thine? 
With  no  lamentation 
Let  each  tongue  .and  nation 
Shout  this  proclamation : 
'T  is  June- 


REFLECTIO.NS.  BY    lAKKlS    IJ.    SMITH 


(SILVER   BADGE.) 


OUR  FAMILY  TRADITION. 

BY   ALICE   WICKENDF.X    (aOE   15) 

{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.) 


756 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


'  COMPANIONS. 


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. 

THE   BIRDS. 

BY   ALICE    EARSTON    (AGE  6). 

Little  birdies  in  the  sky — 

Don't  you  see  them  flying  high, 
Up  above  the  great  big  clouds, 

Like  an  arrow  shooting  by? 

A  FAMILY  TRADITION. 

BY    MORRIS    BISHOP    (AGE    lO). 

(  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 
boxes. 

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 
flown. 

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 
mouth." 

In  the  morning  my  forefather 
escaped  and  found  his  way  to  a 
settlement. 

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 


BY    MAKJORIE    CONNER, 
AGE    15. 


COMPANIONS.  BY    ELSIE 

iMOORE,     AGE    I3. 


[June. 
A  JUNE  SONG. 

KV  ROBERT  E.    DUNDON  (AGE  1 7). 

(.-/  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. 

A  FAMILY  TRADITION. 

BY    HELEN    PLATT  (AGE  9). 

{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- 
tlers. 

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 
oxen. 

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 
cattle. 

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. 


1904.] 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


757 


A  JUNE  AFTERNOON. 

BV    RUTH    BIRD  (AGE  15). 

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 
mill, 

.\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 
naj) 
Right  <lo\vn  here  on  the  floor. 


■*  SKUNK. 
(FntST  I'RIZE 


(.KdKi.lNA    K.   McCALL,    AGE    I7. 
'  WILD-ANIMAL  PHOTOGRAPH.") 


A  FAMILY  TRADITION. 

BY   ADELYN    REI.L   (AGE    I4). 

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 


FAMILY  TRADITIONS. 

l:V  OI.IVE  ML'DIE  COOKE  (aGF.  I4). 

.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 


V 


'  WHITE-CRESTED  NUTHATCH. 
AGE   16.      (SECOND   PRIZE, 


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 
h.ad  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 
th.at  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 
Americans. 

JUNE.- 
BY  MARGARET   DREW   (AGE  9). 

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- 
berries 

So  luscious  and  so  sweet ; 
I  like  to  sit  in  shade  of  trees 

And  eat  and  eat  and  eat. 


'h'^l^HM 


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. 


.v 


nV    SAMCEL    DOWSE    KOBDINS, 
■  WILD-BIRD    PHOTOGRAPH.") 


(THIKD    PKIZEj 


^■\     I.      ^       I  AVI  UK,    M 
'WlLU-blKD    PHOTOGRAPH.' 


A  JUNE  SONC;. 

EVA   LEVY   (age    15). 

Oh,  the  roses  all  are  blooming, 

pink  and  yellow,  white  and 
red, 

.\nd  the  lilucts  shy  are  peeping 
now  from  out  their  grassy 
bed, 

.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 
June!" 

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!  " 


758 


ST.     NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[JtNE, 


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  ' 

A   FAMILY    TRADITION. 

BY    MARJORIE    E.    PARKS    (A(;E    I3). 

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 


TRADITION. 

HASTINGS    (AGE  : 


A  FAMILY 

BY    MARGARET    l\    HASTINGS    (AGE  12). 

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 
smaller. 

One  reason  I  like  this  story  so  much  is  because  I 
have  one  of  the  buttons  on  a  necklace. 


A  JUNE  SONG. 

;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. 


'companions. 


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- 
sides." 


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. 

A  JUNE  SONG. 

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. 


A  FAMILY  TRADITION. 

BY    ELISABETH    CLARK    (.\GI':    1 3). 

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.) 


1904.1 


ST.     NICHOLAS    LF.AGIK. 


59 


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 
Station. 

LIFE'S    SPRIXGTI.ME. 
BY  TIlEODOSI.\  I).  JESSUI"    (ACE    II). 

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. 

A  FAMILY  TRADITION. 

BY    I.OIS   GERTRUDE    STEVENS   (AGE   6). 

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. 


'COMPANIONS.  BY    FRANCES    BRYANT   GODWIN,    AGE    II. 

(silver    BADGE.) 


'  JUNE."      BY   ROBERT  ED.MUND  JONES,   AGK  l6.      (SILVER  BADGE. > 


MY   FAVORITE    EPISODE    IN    MYTHOLOGY. 

BY   L.WVRENCE    llAROER    DOOUTTI.E    (AGE    12). 

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. 


760 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


HEADING    FOR  JUNE. 

McGURK,    AGE    17. 


JOSEPH 


[June, 

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. 


NEW  CHAPTERS. 


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- 


PANDORA. 

BV    HELEN   A.    RUSSELL    (AGE    II). 

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 


COMPANIONS.  BV    MARGERY    BRADSHAW,    AGE    15 


*A    HEADING  FOR   JUNE 


BV    HELEN    WILSON,    AGE   9. 


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. 

No.  712.  "  Children  of  Love  aiid  Truth."  Elizabeth  Marchant, 
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. 

No.  714.  Ina  Austin,  President;  Edith  Van  Horn,  Secretary; 
six  members.     Address,  Wellsboro,  Pa. 

No.  715.     "  George  Washington."    Fred  Tobin,  President;  Alice 
McGrath.  Secretary;  four  members.     Address,  68  Canal  St.,  New 
Haven,  Conn. 

No.  716.  "Electa  Sex."  Mil- 
dred Cram,  President:  Dorothy 
Ridgely,  Secretary  ;  six  members. 
Address,  1925  7th  Ave.,  New  York 
City. 

No.  717.  "Triangle."  Louise 
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. 

No.  710.  Egbert  Spencer,  Presi- 
dent :  Alien  Schauffler,  Secretary  ; 
eisiht  members-  Address,  Box  437, 
Hiehland  Park,  111. 

No.  720-  "  Bell  Chapter."  Ma- 
rion Hays,  President ;  Florence 
Mooney,  Secretary ;  sixty  mem- 
bers Address,  care  of  Miss  Fuld, 
1 30  E.  I  loth  St. ,  New  York 
City. 

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- 
dent: Lillian  Aspinall,  Secretary:  three  members.  Address, 
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- 
tary; nine  members.     Address,  608  Ferry  St.,  Lafayette,  Ind. 

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- 
dent: eleven  members.  Address,  69  Miller  Ave..  Columbus,  Ohio. 
No.  720.  "  Au  Fait."  Mr.rgiierite  Mills,  President;  Marguerite 
Fietsch,  Secretary;  eleven  members.  Address,  342  Home  St.,  Oak 
Park,  III. 

No.  730.  "  Sunshine  Circle."  Mary  Bulloch,  President;  Jean- 
nie  Sampson,  Secretary:  six  members.     Address,  Shelby-ville,  Ky. 

No.  731.  "Pen  and  Ink."  Louis  Pavis,  President;  Moses 
Weiss,  Secretary;  three  members.  Address,  314  Reed  St.,  Phil- 
adelphia, Pa, 

Nc.  732.  Douglas  Sharpe,  Secretary;  nine  members.  Address, 
Greensboro,  N.  C. 

No.  733.  "The  Torch."  Neill  Wilson,  Secretary:  six  mem- 
bers.    Address,  1415  Clinton  Ave.,  Alameda,  Cal. 

No.  7^4.  "  Merry  Links."  Gertrude  O'Brien,  President;  Chris- 
tine Schoff,  Secretar\"  nine  members.      Address,  Norfolk,  Conn. 

No.  735.  Adelaide  Stiles,  President;  Harriet  Lish,  Secretary; 
five  members.     Address,  Clifton  Springs,  N.  Y. 


•904-) 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


761 


LEAGITE  LETTERS. 

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. 


A  HEADING  FOR 

JUNK." 

BV  JOSEPHINE 

ARNOLD  80NNBY, 

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,  wh.it  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. 


Bt'RLlNCTON,  N.  J. 

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. 


0 


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 
verses. 

With  our  good  wishes  to  these  two  writers  especially,  we  are 

SOCIETAS    PUELLARUM. 

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. 


THE   NEWTON    CHAPTEK 


Vol.  XXXI.— 96. 


762 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[June, 


HEADING    FOR  JUNE 


EDGAR    DANIELS,    AGE    I7. 


THE   ROLL    OF   HOXOR. 

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 


PROSE    2. 

Jessie  B.  Coit 
Mildred  Newman 
Marion  Elizabeth  In- 

galls 
Fern  L.  Patten 
Mary  Hatch 
Natalie  Pearson 
Eleanor  Hathome 

Bailey 
Helen  J,  Simpson 
France  J.  Shriver 
Kathrj-n  Sprague 
G.  Virginia  Robinson 
Marguerite  Eugenie 

Stevens 
Florence  Montague 
Urath  Brown  Sutton 
Laura  B.  Weill 
Christine  Graham 
Constance  Dorothy 
Collins 


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 
Nourse 
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 

DRAWINGS  2. 

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- 
Dowell 


gomery 
Austin  O'Connor 
Charles  H.  Price.  Jr. 
Florence  Isabel  Miller 
Laura  Brown 


Georgiana  Myers  Stur-  Helene  Esberg 


dee 

Pemberton  H.  Whit- 
ney 

Henrietta  Craig  Dow 

Elise  Russell 

Louise  Heffem 

Natalie  Wurts 

Aurelia  Michener 

Carolyn  Coit  Stevens 

Gertrude  Louise  Can- 
non 

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 
Hurton 

B.  A.  Mann 

Helen  Copeland 
Coombs 

NannieC.  Barr 

Rachel  Bulley 

Gwenllian  Peirson 
Turner 

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 

Folsom 
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 

PROSE   I. 
Willia  Nelson 


Sarah  Hall  Gaither 
Melicent  Eva  Huma- 

son 
Frances  Renshaw 

Latzke 
William  A.  R.  Rus- 

sum 
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- 

Quiston 
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 


Ballard 
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 


DRAWINGS   I. 

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 

Spring 
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- 
dee 
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 


ger 
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 

Barbour 
John  S.  Trowbridge 
Stephanie  Balderston 
Catharine  Chapin 


Hester  Trumbull 
Clarissa  M.  L.  How- 
land 
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 


Berry 
Kenneth  E.  Hicks 
Dorothy  Berry 
Grace  F.  Slack 
Dorothy  Longslreth 
S    Louise  Hale 
Florence  Forristall 
Marcia  Hoyt 
Mildred  Andrus 


I9«H-] 


Betty  Lockett 

Margaret  Joscnhans 

Sidney  Edward  Dick- 
enson 

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- 
smith 

Kathcrine  Godwin 
Parker 

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 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


763 


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- 
son 
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 

Noursc 
Gertrude  B.  West 
Franklin  Spcir 
Anna  K.  Cook 
Willie  K.  Crocker 
Kenneth  Connolly 
Ruth  H.  Matz 
Homer  M.  Smith 
Harry  Haydcn 


Randolph  Fletcher 

Brown 
Lucia  Warden 
Hattie  Cheney 

PHOTOGRAPHS 

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 


ST 


NICHOLAS 

LEAGUE 


Helen  Kimball 
Mary  Spnigue 
Alec  Sisson 
Agnes  C  Cochran 
Mercedes  Huntington 
.  Elisabeth  Heath  Rice 
Julius  Btcn 

Margaret  B.  Copeland 
Lin(^  Scarritt 

PHOTOGRAPHS  2. 


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 


vy 
1  Wa 


A    HEADING. 


IlV    R.    A.    CHRISTENSEN,    ACS    17. 


Freda  Messervy 
Theodora  Van  Wag- 

encn 
Heyliger  de  Windt 
Bessie  Hedge 
Adelaide  GUlis     " 
Lionel  Jealous 
Francis  Bassett 
Helen  Banister 
Kendall  Bushnell 
Gwendolen  Scarritt 


G(»dfrcy  Richards 

Thorne 
J.  Paulding  Brown 
Rutherford  Piatt 
George  F.  Bliven 
Mary  Sanger 

PUZZLES   I. 
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 

PUZZLES  2. 

Hope  Adgaie  Conant 
Cassius  M.  Clay,  Jr. 
Christine  Graham 
Robert  Raymond 
Claire  L.  Sidenberg 
Margery  Brown 
Horace  B.  Forman 
Marjorie  Shriver 
Henry  H.  Houston 


PRIZE   COMPETITION    NO.  57. 


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 
September. 

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. 

LAS. 

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. 

RULES. 

.Any  reader  of  St.  Nicholas,  whether  a  subscriber 
or  not,  is  entitled  to  League  membership,  and  a  League 
badge  and  leaflet,  which  will  be  sent  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  : 


GOOD-BY."       BV   ANNA   ZLCKER,    AGE    l6. 


The  St.  Nicholas  League, 

Union  Square,  New  York. 


BOOKS   AND    READING. 


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 


GOING  ABROAD. 


764 


BOOKS    AND    READING. 


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  Thk.re  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. 


THE   LETTER-BOX. 


YONKERS,  N.  Y. 

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. 


766 


ANSWERS  TO  PU2ZLKS   IN  THE  MAY   NUMBER. 


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.  Murri.sh,  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. 


DOUBLE   CROSS-WORD   ENIGMA. 

{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. 

HELEN    F.    SEARIGHT. 


CONNECTED   DIAMONDS. 

(Silver  Badgfy  St.  NichoIa.<i  League  Competition.) 


DOUBLE    DIAGONAL. 


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). 

767 


768 


THE    RIDDLE-BOX. 


m 


E.^ 


1.^ 


i^ 


¥5  I-IIM- 


.ITfe. 


L^^LJ'^Lf^  ^|)^™9>^-%^: 


^I^Tk"«^6jj|;^-*?iYi 


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  ? 

CUBE   AND   INCLOSED    SOLID    SQUARE. 

{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. 

HARRY   I.    TIFFANY. 


BEHEADINGS   AND   CUKTAIMNGS. 

(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 
lubricate. 

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 
water. 

The  initials  of  the  ten  little  words  will  spell  two 
familiar  words.  DORIS  hackbusch. 

DOUBLE   ZIGZAG. 


II 

2       .                        .     12  . 

•     3           •    >3     ■  • 
■          4  14 

.     5     ■      ■   15     ■  • 

6     ....   16  . 

17 


i!; 


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). 


THE    DE    VINNE    PRESS,  NEW    YORK. 


97. 


j:i?a-:-r-^'^^^r^Cs--.;L^-a.«^-  ..ii^--:iii^^^<^  ^~!^fff>*J'S^i(:::l.:~^--k\t-.i>^^ 


•AS    DAPHNE    DANCED    ONE   AFTERNOON,    WHILE  CHIMED    THE   SPINET'S   TINKLING    TUNE." 


St.  Nicholas. 


JULY     1904 


Copyright,  iyo4,  by  '1'he  Ckmlkv   Cu.      All  rigliLs    rescn'cd. 


Vol. 

XXXI. 

fflhen 

m 

By 

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. 

77' 


11'^ 


\VIIEN    DAPHNE    DANCED. 


[July, 


'  A    WHISPEK    FLED    FROM    LIP  TO   LIP. 


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 
danced. 


■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 

glanced 
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." 


115 


774 


WHEN    DAPHNE    DANCED. 


[July, 


'as,    homeward    bound,    king   GEORGES    SHIP    SPED    EVER    ON    WITH    BOW"   AND    DIP. 


.                    1 

^ 

^ 

:M 

fei 

M 

m  wM 

ippi 

■■•il 

u 

^ 

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. 


'UNTO    HER    PARTNER    CURTSIED   LOW. 


>9<M-1 


\VIIi:\     DAI'IINK     DANCKD. 


/  /:> 


-..m~- 


\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- 


htm 


'AS  THE   rWU  L;uYb  W'LRli  STEADILY  GAZING  OX  THE  SURFACE  OF  THE  WATER, 

SURE  ENOUGH,  UP  CAME  THE  SHARK."     (See  page  784.) 

776 


X 


"KIBLN    DAIZIX" 

OR 
FROM    SHARK-BOY   TO    MERCHANT    PRINCE. 


I!V    GeNSAI     iMURAI. 


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. 


AN    AMBITIOUS    BOY. 


"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. 


778 


■KIBUN    DAIZIN 


[Jl-LV. 


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. 


IF    YOU    PLEASE,    SIR,    ARE    YOU    THE    HEAD    OF   THE    DAIKOKLVA? 

"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. 


I9<m1 


OR    FROM    SHARK-BOV    TO    MERCHAXT    I'RLNXE. 


779 


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. 


78o 


KIBUN    DAIZIN 


(Jl'LY, 


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. 


OR    FROM    SHARK-BOV    TO    MERCHANT    PRINCE. 


781 


"  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 


©.. 


.^^ 


'WHV,    IT   'S  JUST  LIKE   A   REAL   DRAGON-FLY !  '   SHE  CRIED,   WITH   DELIGHT, 


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 
asked. 

"  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. 

BUNKICHI    PLANS    TO    KILL    THE    WANIZAME. 

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 


782 


KIBUN    DAIZIN 


[JlLV, 


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 
purpose." 

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. 


>9<hJ 


OR    FROM    SHARK-BOY    TO    MERCHANT    PRINCE. 


78: 


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 
Kada-no-Ura." 

"  .\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; 


784 


"  KIBUN    DAIZm,        OR    FROM    SHARK-BOY    TO    MERCHANT    PRINCE. 


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.) 


iloW    IWO    DOROTHYS    RAX    AWAY    1-ROM    11  li:    BRITISH. 


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 


786 


HOW    TWO    DOROTHYS    RAX    AWAY    FROM    THE    BRITISH. 


[JlLV, 


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 
shoes. 

"  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 
her. 

"  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 
commanded. 

"  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, 


H<i\V    TWO    DOROTHYS    RAN     AWAV     )T<()M     TllK     liKITISH. 


7^7 


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  le.ss  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 


788 


HOW    TWO    DOROTHYS    RAX    AWAV    FROM    THE    BRITISH. 


(July, 


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 
asked. 

"  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 
cried. 

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 


now    TWO     DDROTIIVS     RAX     AWAV     IRiiM      llli:     liRITISII. 


789 


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 
troubled. 

"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 
began. 

'•  (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 
rescuer. 

"  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. 


DOLLY   MADISON'S   TRl.NK,   NOW   IN   THE   STATE   DEPARTMENT,   WASHINGTON. 
FHOTOGRAPHED    FOR    ST.    NICHOLAS. 


Frs7 


^u 


-^ 


0  -^^ 


H 


u 


:%^^^ 

'^^^^y 


THE    BRAVE    VOUXTEERS. 

liv  C'akolvx  Wei.ls. 


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  ! " 


CAN'T. 


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. 


THE    LARGEST   SQUASH. 


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- 
vine." 

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  ?  " 


794 


THE    LARGEST    SQUASH. 


[July, 


"  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 


THK    LARGEST    SQUASH. 


19<>4-J 

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 


795 


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. 


"SHE  WULLD  OFTEN  SIT  AT  THE  WINDOW  OF  HER  R<>0.\T,  AT  THE  DACK  OF  THE  HOUSE,  AND  TALK  TO  JOE. 


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- 
ward. 

"  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 


-96 


THE    LARGEST    SQUASH. 


[JlLY, 


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 


'HOLD   ON,    THAR!       CAME    A    VOICE    FROM    THE    CROWD.       M    ENTER    PROTEST   AGIN     THAT    SQUASH. 


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 


■904.] 


THE    LARGEST    SQUASH. 


191 


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 
here." 

"  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. 


^uR9iOG'CF?eO,vOi9iGbt-"FTa,e-fLy~ 


WHAT    ANOTHER    SUMMER    BROUGHT   TO 
DENISE   AND    NED    TOODLES. 


By  Gabrielle  E.  Jackson. 


Chapter  VII. 

TROUBLES   NEVER   COME    SINGLY. 

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 
believe." 

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 


798 


/. 


DENISE    AND    NED    TOODLES. 


799 


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 
slowly." 

"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- 
ently. 

"  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 


8oo 


DENISE    AND    NED    TOODLES. 


IJULY, 


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 
answer. 

"  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 


DENISE    AND    NliU    TOODI.ES. 


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 
back." 

"  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. 

A     IIMKI.V    RESCUE. 

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, 


802 


DEXISE    AND    XED    TOODLES. 


(July, 


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 


«9°4-l 


D1:MSE    and    NED    TOODLES. 


803 


"  SAILOR    STOPPRD   FOR  AN    INSTANT,    AND  THEN,    WITH  A   LOW 
BARK    OF   WARNING,  SPRANG  AFTER   A    MAN    WHO    SUD- 
DENLY APPEARED  PROM  THE  UNDERGROWTH." 

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. 


CHAI'TKR 


JOV    TURNS    POKEY   DAFT. 

^  '  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 


8o4 


DENISE    AND    NED    TOODLES. 


IJl>L.V, 


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 


V. 


^''1* 


:ip^' 


"THE   BACK    FIELD   ON    WHICH    JOHN'S   COTTAGE    STOOD.'' 

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. 


19<H-1 


DENISE    AND    XEI)    TOODLES. 


805 


"  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. 
Lombard. 

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. 


THE   K.NU. 


n, 


A    DAY    WITH    HUDSON    MAXIM. 


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. 

806 


FIG.    1.       "ON    liNTERING   THE    HALLWAV  ONE    IS    SLDUE.NLV 

CONFRONTED    BV   A  FORMIDABLE-LOOKING    ENGINE 

OF   WAR  —  A    MAXIM    GUN." 


A    lUV    WITH    HUDSON    MAXIM. 


807 


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 


LIGHTING   A   CIGAR    WITH    A    MAXIMITE  '*  CANDLE.' 


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. 


HG.    3.       SAWING    OFF    A    STICK    OF    DYNAMITE. 


8o8 


A    DAY    WITH    HUDSON    MAXIM. 


(JfLY, 


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 


A    Ll'.Ml-    OF    -MAXIMITE. 


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 


SHOWING  THE    EFFECTS    OF    A   SHATTERED    SHELL.       AT   THE    LEFT    IS   THE    SHELL   BEFORE   IT   WAS    EXPLODED  ; 
RIGHT  ARE  MORE  THAN   70OO  PIECES,   ALL  THAT  COULD  BE  RECOVERED   OF   THE  SHELL  AFTER  EXPLODING. 


•9<H-] 


A    DAV    WITH     III  DSO.N"     MAXIM. 


809 


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 


FIG.    6.       SHOWINT.    FRAG.MENTS   OF    A    5A:4-INCH    SI  EEL   PLATE 
EXPLODED  IN    IT.      AT  THE   RIGHT  ARE   SHOWN   SO.M 

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^. 


PUT    HACK     IN     KISlTiON    AKTKK    HAVl.SG    H  .-X 11    A    -MAXIM    SHKLL 
E   RECOVERED    SMALLER    FRAGMENTS  OF  THE  PLATE. 

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 


8io 


A    DAY    WITH    HUDSON    MAXIM. 


[July, 


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- 


FIG.     7.       SHOWING    A    MAXIMITE    SHELL     WITH    THE    DEIONATING 
FUSE    PARTLY    UNSCREWED    FROM   THE  PLUG. 

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 


,  ~                                        ~~"~--^ 

^^^v. 

J 

*-     _-^ 

------^                      ^ 

i*,^      .-. — —-"^ 

FIG     8 

SECTI(IN\I     \ 

EU     <   1 

\       \\\  I  1  .    SHOWING   THE 

CH\[vLjt, 

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. 


KILLING    A    SHELL    WITH    MELTED    MAXIMITE. 


A     DAY    WITH     IIinSON     MAXIM. 


8ll 


ing  fuse  partly  unscrewed  from  the  plug  ;  Fig.  8 
is  a  sectional  view  of  a  shell  with  charge,  plug. 


AND   MKs.    .MAX1.M    FILLING    THE   CAPS    WITH 
THE  SECRET  COMPOIKD. 


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. 


STICKS  OF   SMOKELESS   POWDER. 


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 


8l2 


A    DAY    WITH    HUDSON    MAXIM. 


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 


FIG.    12.       SETTING  FIRE   TO   ORDINARY    BLACK    POWDER  — 
LITTLE   FLAME   AND    MUCH    SMOKE. 

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 


FIG.    13.       SETTING   FIRE  TO  *iMOKELESS    POWDER.      THE    LIGHT 
FLARE   IS    FLAME   ONLY,     WITH  KO  SMOKE. 

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 
gun. 

This  was  the  climax  to  my  day  with  this 
peaceable  wizard  of  frightful  explosives. 


GUESSING  SONGS. 


By  Henry  Johnstone. 


I. 


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. 


11. 


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  ? 


AN    ELFIN    CELEBRATION. 


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." 
813 


'IN  THE    'FAMILY   JAR.'" 


YOUNG   AMERICA. 


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 ! 


8u 


-J^ 


-j^C 


A    SUMMKR    SUNDAY    HOUR    OF    LONG    AGO. 


ONE   OF    LEWIS    AND   CLARK  S    MEN  - 


*A    FIRST   GLIMPSE    OF    THE    ROCKIES. 


WESTWARD  THE   COURSE   OF   EMPIRE  TAKES    ITS   WAY.' 


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. 


LIVE    STOCK    FOR    TH1-:    COMMODORE. 


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  Briti.sh  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 


817 


8i8 


LIVE    STOCK    FOR    THE    COMMODORE. 


[July, 


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- 


'■  iHt    POICTIERS   FIRED    A    VEW    IN'El  I  ln_  I  L  AL    SHOTS. 
"  THE    POSITION    OF   THE    CHANNEL   MADE    IT   NECESSARY   FOR   THE    YAKKEE  TO   PASS   CLOSE   TO   THE    FORMIDABLE    POICTIEHS." 

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 


1904.1 


LIVE    STOCK    FOR    TIIP:    COMMODORE. 


819 


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 
Morris. 

"  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 
chickens! 

"  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 


820 


LIVE    STOCK    KOR    THE    COMMODORE. 


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. 


L.AZY    WILLIE    WILLOW. 


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. 


A   COMEDY    IN    WAX. 

{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 
flower. 

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  : 

MENU. 

Polages. 
Potage  a  la  Bonne  Reine  Bess. 
Pur^e  a  la  Mme.  Sainte  .Amaranthe. 

Poissons. 
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. 

Entrees. 
Riz  de  Veau  a  la  Ilouqua. 
Chaufioid  de  Cotelettes  de  Mouton  a  la  Richaul  III. 

Pekvcs. 
Poulardes  a  la  Richard  Coeur  de  Lion. 
Quartier  d'.Agneau  a  la  Roi  gai  Henry  VIII. 
I'omnies  de  lerre  a  la  JL  .Scarlett. 

Kols. 
Canetons  a  la  Tom  de  la  Pouce. 
Pinlades  a  la  M.  Bower. 
Salade  i  I'OIiver  Cromwell. 

Entremets. 
.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. 


822 


A    COMEDY    IN    WAX. 


[July, 


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 


.  ,'    EXCLAIMED    HENRV    VIII.    'IT    LIKES    LS    WELl!'     ' 

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 


A    COMEDY    IN    WAX. 


823 


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. 


824 


A    COMEDY    IN    WAX. 


[July, 


"  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- 
lands. 
And  chase  away  sorrow. 
Sweet    Nature,   good-mor- 
row !  " 

Chapter  XXV. 

THE    GOOD-BY    AT    THl 
DOOR. 

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 
question. 

"  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 


LVDIA    KESPONDING    TO   THE    TOAST. 


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. 


A    COMEDY    IX    WAX. 


825 


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 
friends. 

"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 
allmyheart,dear(jueen!" 

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 
queen. 

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 


^ 


LONDON    BRIDGE   IS  FALLING  DOWN. 


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, 
children." 

"  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  ?  " 


826 


A    COMEDY    IN    WAX. 


[July, 


She  watched  them  till  they  were  out  of  sight. 
They  blew  kisses  to  her  as  they  went. 

Chapter   XXVI. 

HOW     MME.    TUSSAUD     DEALT     WITH     MISS 

LUCINDA    PENNYBACK    AND    MR. 

LORIMER     GRIMWEED. 

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 
you." 

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." 


I904I 


A    COMEDY    I\    WAX. 


"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 


%m!i!liim 


*'*MR.  GRIMWEED  —  LORIMER  —  PROTECT   M(i!'    SCREAMED    MISS    PENNVBACK."      (SEE    PAGESsS.) 


"  Our  royal  cousins  speak  our  thoughts,"  said 
Richard  Cteur  de  Lion.  "  We  are  of  one 
mind." 

He  looked  around,  and  all  the  celebrities 
nodded  their  heads  and  said  :  "  We  are  of  one 
mind." 

"'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 
follow. 

"  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 
hand. 

"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 
done." 

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 
forth." 

With  tottering  steps,  and  with  a  face  into 
which  she  vainly  strove  to  throw  a  brave  ex- 
pression, Miss  Pennyback  presented  herself. 


828 


A    COMEDY    IN    WAX. 


"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, 
madam." 

"  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 
teeth. 

"  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- 
ness. 

"  Where  am  I  ?  "  she  exclaimed  in  a  faint 
tone. 

"  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 
choice." 

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 !  " 


829 


LLOYD'S    LUCK. 


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  : 


I.LOVDS    LUCK. 


831 


"  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 
shout. 

"  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. 


^r- 


WATCHING    THE    AFTERNOON    EXPRESS. 


THE    HARPY    EAGLE. 


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 
America. 

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- 
posed. 

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. 


832 


THi:    I1AK1'\     l,Ai;l,l.. 
Drauin/rom  li/e /or  Si.  Nicholas  iy  J.  M  CUeson. 


Vol.  XXXI.— 105-106. 


83.! 


;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  ! 


^ 


S34 


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, 
Tfi^rrQW,a^ld:^ 


'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 . 


iy'^'".»vir^<j 


■'Ji 


ON^ed  as  lie  sai  atliis  clrarj  ciesk 
To  return,  to  hi^  ctLstaMt  ho/v\e, 


836 


0  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. 


::,.-a'i^^ 


iDNE°r  Uncle'M  '  Joeys  Jokes 


J 


IG^-WU--^ 


Jlllil'. 


OHN  HANCOCK 
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 
Ninny. 

"  Looks  like  sand  and  gravel,"  replied 
Johnny.     "  But  sand  has  n't  got  any  fire-bang 


'cause    I   've   frowed    it   ever 


many 


to    It, 

times." 

"  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 
Ninny. 

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 
rain-barrel. 

'•  What  you  doin'  ?  "  she  called. 

"  Oh,  just  making  torpedoes,"  answered 
Johnny. 

"  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 
first." 

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. 


838 


ONK    OK    U.NXI.K     lOKV  -.     TOKKS. 


^39 


"  It  does  n't  torpede,"  said  Johnny,  plain- 
tively. 

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 
awe. 

"  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. 


X'iU^^iw-'^^'^^'f'' 


tSAUKL   AND    AA!A1JEI  . 


••  .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. 


SEA-LIONS    SWIMMING    KAIJDLV,    CATCHING    FISH,    AND    SWALLOWING    THEM    WHOLE. 


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 


A    NOVEL   .METHOD   OF    ADMINISTEKI.NG   .MEDICINE   TO    A    TIGER. 


840 


NATURE    AND    SCIENXE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


841 


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. 


SOMETHING  ABOUT  ROCK- 
SALT. 

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 


84: 


NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


[July, 


CRYSTALS    OF    HOCK-SALT. 


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. 

THE  HONEY-BEE'S  FOOT. 


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.    WALKINGON  A  ROUGH 


(Fig.  I). 

On  a  smooth  surface   !t:^„"".  pulvillus,  or  pad, 

THROWN  BACrC« 

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, 

rr 


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." 


FIG.  2.  WALKING  ON  A  SMOOTH 
SURFACE.  PULVILLUS  IN  ACTIVE 
USE,    CLAWS    THROWN    BACK. 


NATURE    ANP    SCII'NTE     FOR    VOl'NG    FOLKS. 


84: 


A    IHuTOGKArK    H\     I>K,     HKKUKKl     L      WILSON,     PH<  >TO(.K  A  fH  t  K 
GOODSKLL  OBSERVATORY. 


HOW   TO    PHOTOGRAPH 

LIGHTNING, 

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. 


A  PHOTOGRAPH  BY  A.  M.  McFARLAND. 


844 


NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


[July, 


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 


SKETCHES   OF    THE    PARTS  OF   THE    Sl'SARCTlC    PRIMULA. 


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 


/ 


region. 

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 
midwinter. 


k 


^\^A-, 


THE    "LITTLE    ARCTIC   TRAVELER"   GROWING   ON   THE    SIDE    OF  THE 
LEDGE   ABOVE  THE    FALLS. 


I<)04.1 


NATURE    AXn    SCIKNCE    I'UR    VOUNG    FOLKS. 


845 


-^==e: 


^"BECAUSE:  WE 
[WANT  TO  KNOW 


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  th.it  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, 
Washington. 

variations  in  leaves. 

Oakland,  Cal. 
Dear  St.  Nicholas:  I  was  making  some  pictures 
of  leaves,  and  I  noticed  th.at  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  noi.se.  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- 


IfM 


VAKIUIS    KOKMS    OF    Lh.WKS    ON    ONE    BKANCIl    01-"    SASSAKKAS. 

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. 


846 


NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


[Jl'LY, 


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 


THE    OSTKICH-FEKN    BY    THE    KIVERSIDE. 


THE    FERTILE    FRONDS    SOMEWHAT 
RESEMBLE    OSTRICH-PLUMES. 

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- 
somest. 

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- 
plumes. 

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 


>9«H-1 


naturp:  and  science  for  young  folks. 


S47 


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. 

A  STORK'S  NEST  ON  A  CHIMNEY. 

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  Cathedr.il  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). 


K-    AND    THEIR   NEST   ON    THE    CHIMNEY. 


A    PHCEBE'S    NEST    ON    THE    OVERTURNED    COVER 
OF  A    DINNER-PAIL. 

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. 


"A    HEADING    FOK  jULV."      BV    F.    MILES   GREENLEAF,    AGE    17.       (CASH    PKI2E  } 


->U,  A^AjjvfefcY^ 


THE    LIBERTY   BELL. 

BY    ELIZABETH    M.    T.    WOOD    (AGE    12). 
(^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 

A 

DOG    HERO 

WHO    LOST    HIS    LIFE    IN 

S.^VIXG   SIX. 

Surely  no  hero  ever  more  truly  deserved  to  have  his 
memory  kept  alive  in  the  hearts  of  his  debtors. 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


849 


PRIZE-WINNERS,  COMPETITION    No.  55. 

In  making  tlie  awards,  contrilnitors'  ages  are  con- 
sidered. 

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. 


12). 


A    PLEASANT    OKNEK. 


TO  THE  LIBERTY  KKI.L. 

BY    HELENE    MABEL   SAWYER   (AGE 

(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 
tru.st— 
1..  send  thy  song  of 
freedom  o'er  the 
land, 
I  ii  witness  such  another 

bloody  strife. 
.■\iid  so  rest  on,  creator 

of  a  race ! 
Thy  worthy  life  should 
end  in  well-earned 
peace. 
Kcst,    for   thy   work   is 
done,  thy  task  ful- 
filled, 
riiy    mission    wrought, 
thy  mighty  tongue 
at  rest. 


.\    IKIG    IIKRO. 

\.\    KLIZABETH  R.  EAST- 
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. 


l(V   GERTIU'DE    HARRIS   KE.VZOR,    Ai.f-: 
(GOLD    BADOK.) 


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. 


850 

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 
ashore. 

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 
sound. 

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. 


THE    LIBERTY    BELL. 

BY  DOROTHY  WALKER    (AGE   I4). 

(Sik'cr  Badge.) 
^VllEN    the    flowers    are   in    the 
meadows 
And  the  west   wind  whispers 

When  the  whole  bright  worUl  is 
singing 

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." 

A    DOG    HERO. 

BY    RUTH    KIXSEY  (AGE   I4). 

{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 
water. 

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- 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


PLEASANT    CORNER.  BV    HARKV    LEFEBER, 

AGE    13.       (GOLD    BADGE.) 


Il 

1 

^5.^3 

'a    pleasant   corner.  by    HELEN    SEAMAN, 

AGE  9.       (SILVER    BADGE.) 


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- 
ings. 

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. 

THE   LIBERTY   BELL. 

BY   DORIS  FRANCKLYN   (aGE    I"). 

{A  Former  P}-ize-7vinuei\) 
Ring  out,  great  bell! 
Thy  story  tell 
Of  liberty! 
Not  low  nor  sad, 
But  full  of  glad 
Solemnity. 

Ring  loud!      Ring  long! 
Proclaim  thy  song 

Triumpliantly ! 
The  nation  hears, 
And,  answering,  cheers 

Exultantly. 


A    DOG    HERO. 

BY  MARGARET  F,  GRANT  (AGE  IO). 

{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 


ST.    NICHOLAS   LEAGUE. 


851 


m 

Mr '  ' 

1 

1 

Tl~>^\  •  iMiim'  Milfl 

1 

1 
1 

-4^ 

^ 

^^ 

[ 

*    ,     :                 V  .u.-       .. 

'• 

i 

TO   THE    LIBERTY    liELL. 

I!V   JOSErll    R.  GOCSHA  (AllE  I4). 
(5//rr/-jSa,4v.) 

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. 


"MALLARDS."       BY   JOll.N    V.    S.    BLOODCOOD,  AGE    I4.       (PIRST 
PRIZE,  "WILD-BIRD   PHOTOGRAPH.") 

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. 

OUR  HEROIC   LEO. 

ItV    ALICE    G.   PEIRCE  (AGE    I  l). 

(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 
other. 

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 


DV    G.    HERBEKT    DINCAN,  AGE    I4.       (SECO.ND    PRIZE, 
"wild-animal   PHOTOGRAPH.") 


CONCERXIXt;    LOST    BADGES. 

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^ 

P 

1 

m. 

■   ''^^^'-                 i 

A 

INE   .MONICA   Bl-RTOX,  AGE   13. 
BIRD  PHOTOGRAPH.") 


.K   DOG    HERO. 

IIY    MARTI.N   JANOWnZ 

(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, 


852 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[July, 


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. 

THE    LIBERTY    BELL. 

BY    I'HILIP    STARK  (AGE   I4). 

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- 
ever!" 
.All  unjust  tyranny  dashed  to  the  ground! 


Now 


ghted  ; 


a  wrong   to    be 


"STILL    LIFE  —  A    FISHERMAN  S   GROUP. 
ADELAIDE   DURST,  AGE    I5.       (GOLD    BADGE.) 


Battles  we  fight,  by  our  brave  heroes  led. 
Glorious  Union,  —  the  pride  of  our  nation, — 
Know  you  the  cost  of  the  years  that  have 
fled? 

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 


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STUDY    FRO.M    STILl.    LIFK.  1 

A(iE    II.       (SILVER    BA 


A   DOG    HERO. 

BY    ALICE    HARMOX    PEAVEY  (AGE   I5). 

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 


1904) 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


853 


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. 

MY   GOOD-TIME   DRESS. 

BY   ALLEINE    LANGFORD    (AGE    1 5). 

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. 


A  DOG  HERO. 
BY   ANNETTE    MACK  AY    (AGE    12). 

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 


DECORATION   FOR   JfLV. 

(SILVER 


PLEASA.NT   COR.NER.         BV    HEVLIGEU 
(SILVER    BADGE.) 

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? 

A    DOG    HERO. 

liV    MU.DRED    STANLEY    FLECK 
(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 


BV  JESSIE   C.    SHAW 
BADGE.) 


854 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


rji'Lv, 


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." 

A   DOG   HERO. 

BY    BERTHA    H.    FRASER  (AGE   I3). 

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 
depths. 

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  DOG   HERO. 

BY   FRIED.\   H.  TELLKAMPF  (AGE  I3). 

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? 

A  DOG  HERO. 

BY    ZENOBIA    CAMPRUBI    AYMAR    (AGE    16). 

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. 
Nicholas. 

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- 


ILEA^ANT     COKNER.  bV    DONALU   C.    ARMOUR,    AGE    II 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


1904.) 

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. 

A  DOG  HERO. 

IIY   MARION    LOGAN    KEAN    (ACE    lO). 

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 
Kentucky. 

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." 

A  DOG    HERO. 

IIY    HENRY    REGINALD   CAREY  (AGE  I3). 

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        ..  ^  ,,gt.um  it.t  fok  jl  lv.  ■ 

rowboat  for  hours.  BARnouR, 


One  day  the  parrot  took 
I  into  his  he.ad  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. 

MV  FAVORITK  EPISODE  IN  ENGLISH 
IILSTORV. 

BY    EDNA    MEAD    (AGE    16). 

In  the  year  13S1,  the  peasants  of  EngLand,  little  better 
than  slaves,  rose  in  rebellion  against  unjust  taxation. 


'A    sri  lA     f-ROM    STILL    LU-^E.  BY    SHIRLEY    WILLIS,  AGE    I5. 


**  A    STCDV    FROM    STILL   Lll-E."       bV    WALTER    E.    HC.NTLEY, 
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 


V.X    KATHEICINL    DULCKLtLLA 
AGE    II. 


856 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


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 
peasants. 

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 


[July, 

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. 


STUDY    FROM    STILL   LIFE."      BY   JESSIE   CANDEE 
ARCHER,   AGE    l6. 


their  leader  fall, 
prepared  to  take  revenge,  when  the  king,  bidding  his 
retainers  remain  behind,  rode  forward  alone  into  their 
midst. 

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 
leader." 

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. 

MY   FAVORITE   EPISODE   IN   HISTORY. 

BY   WILLIAM   A.    R.    RUSSUM    (AGE    I3). 

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 


'STILL   LIFE.   '      BY    ETHEL    MES 
ERVY,  AGE  14. 


BETTERS. 

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- 

INGS    HUTCHINGS,    AGE  9. 

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 
name. 
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). 


"  JL'LY."   BY  ELSA  CLARK,  AGE  g. 
(FORMER  PRIZE-WINNER.) 


«904l 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


857 


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 
number. 

I  am  your  devoted  reader, 
tuiTti   M.  Anwkews 


'JULY. 


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. 


THE    BOI.L    OF    HONOR. 

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. 


HY    DOROTHY   LONCSTRETH,  ACE    13.      (SILVER   BADGE.) 


"  STllJ.   LIFE.' 
OTIS, 


BY    ELIZABETH 
ACE    16. 


STILL  LIFE. 


BY   DOROTHY   OCHTMAN, 
AGE  II. 


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. 


VERSE  I. 

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 

VERSE  2. 

Emmeline  Bradshaw 

Ona  Ringwood 

Lydia  Starr  Ferguson 
Gertr\ide  I.  Foils 
Helen  Spear 
Marguerite  Beatrice 

Child 
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 


"a  fLEAsANT   CORNEK.'       bV    I'ER- 
CIVAL  W''HITTLESEV,  AGS  12. 


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 

PROSE  I. 

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- 
lard 
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 


858 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[July, 


-ST  mc^OLJ^S   J_E/VC^L/E 


ALr 
to  h>_©^ 

He    t/o-nv  i 


yeA>-5.  1*^9*-,  tke.<^  f. 


"JULY." 


PROSE  2. 

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- 
son 
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 
laren 


Stuart  Crandall 
Helen  F.  Jones 
P.  M.  Shaw 
Dorothy  C.  King 
Clinton  Brown 
Esther  Cooke  Cowell 
Walter  C.  Hoban 
Margaret   Winthrop 

Peck 
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- 
son 
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 


MARY    DANIEL  GORDON, 
AGE    lO. 


Dorothy    Elizabeth 

True 
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 


DRAWINGS  2. 

Elizabeth    Bacon 

Hutchings 
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 
Smith 

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 

Nourse 
Dorothy  Holt 
H.  Walter  Blumenthal 
Carolyn  Hutchings 
Laurence  De  Can 
Irving  L.  Beach 
Mildred  Wheat 
James  Barrett 
Elizabeth  Fishblate 
Queenabelle  Smith 
Marguerite   McCor- 

mick 
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 

PHOTOGRAPHS  i. 

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 

PHOTOGRAPHS  2. 

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- 
land 
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- 

donald 
Marjorie  Martin 

Blatchford 
Fred  W.  Bell 

PUZZLES  I. 

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 

PUZZLES  2. 

Alice  Knowles 
Donn  W.  Pittman 
T.  S.  Barnes 
Elizabeth  Burrage 
Rebecca  Chilcott 
Anna  Michener 
Carrie  Gordon 
Mary  Ross 
Kenneth  Simpson 


NOTICE. 
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. 


fith 

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- 

fer 
Lauren  Ford 
Bessie  R.  Wright 
Felix  Nicola  Gayton 
Louise  Gleason 
W.  Earle  Fisher 


"STILL   UFE."       BY    SOPHY    DUPLESilS    BEYLARD,   AGE    lO. 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


859 


NEW  CHAITERS. 

,  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, 
Mich. 

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, 

PRIZE  COMPETITION 
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-* 
place. 

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 
October. 

Verse.  To  contain  not 
more  than  twenty-four  lines. 
Title :  to  contain  the  word 
"Return." 

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. 


"  A   PLEASANT  CORNER.         BV   FKA-NCES   .MAUIJ£,   AGE   10. 

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 
Ijadge. 

RULES. 


.\.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 


a:.  1     LUKNtK AKCH    OF    TITUS. 

t-ULVIA   VARVARO,   ACE   l6. 


nJCSfc^. 


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 : 


TAILPIECE. 

REEVES, 


BY  MARGARET 
AGE  7. 


The  St.  Nicholas  League, 

Union  Square,  New  York. 


BOOKS   AND    READING. 


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. 


CHEAP  BOOKS. 


SUMMER  READING. 


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. 


860 


BOOKS    AND    READING. 


86l 


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. 


THE    LETTER-BOX. 


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 
much. 

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 
sand. 

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. 


j^^n 


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 
off. 

I  also  have  a  large  tiger-cat,  who  sleeps  most 
of  the  time. 

We  have  thirteen  little  chickens 
hens. 

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 
friends, 

Dorothy  Chase. 


and 


HURRAH    FOR   THE    FOURTH    OF   JULY ! 


862 


I 


a 


ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES   IN  THE  JUNE  NUMBER. 


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  Savi.ng.  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. 
Beams. 

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. 


DOUBLE  CROSS-WORD  ENIGMA. 

(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). 

HISTORICAL  ACROSTIC. 

(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. 

ZIGZAG. 

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). 

*  CHARADE. 

JAy  first  was  noted  for  capacity. 
And  busy  numbers  fill  my  last; 

My  whole  records,  with  due; veracity. 
The  dusty  annals  of  the  past. 

HELEN   A.    SIBLEY. 


863 


864 


THE    RIDDLE-BOX. 


DOUBLE   ACROSTIC. 

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. 

DOLLIE  CUNNINGHAM  (League  Member). 

A  MAGIC   SQUARE. 

{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 
document. 

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, 
or  J.  JUNIATA   FAIRFIELD. 

TRANSFORMATIONS. 

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. 

MARY  ELIZABETH   STONE. 

CHARADE. 

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). 

CONNECTED   SQUARES. 

(Gold  Badge,  St.  Nicholas  League  Competition.) 


*   »   #   » 


»   *   »   # 


I.  Upper  Left-hand  Square  :  i.  To  confuse. 
2.  Salty.  3.  Pointed.  4.  To  scoff.  5.  A  mythical 
monster. 

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. 

TRIPLE  CROSS-WORD  ENIGMA. 

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). 


THE    DE    VINNE    PRESS,  NEW    YORK. 


109. 


...SEE    HERE   IS   A   KEEPSAKE   FOR   THEE!     HOLD   IT   FAST,  SWEETHEART    AND 
WHEN   THOU  LOOK'STAT   IT.    THINK   ALWAYS    HOW   I    LOVE   THEE."' 

{;'  Elinor  AnUn,"  page  8bS.) 


ST.   NICHOLAS. 


Vol.  XXXI. 


AUGUST,    1904. 


No.  10. 


>^ 


Mmmmh  Bm!m,\skMmm. 


Bv    iMaRV   CONSIANCE    Du    Bois. 


Ch.M'IEK    I. 
THE    FORTUNES    OF    WAR. 

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. 
867 


868 


ELINOR    ARDEN,    ROYALIST. 


[Aug. 


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 
chose. 

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 


ELINOR    ARDEX,    ROV.M.IST. 


869 


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 


MOUNTED  ON   A    PILLION   BEHIND  THE  COLONEL,   ELINOR   RODE  ON   THE 
niG  WAR-HORSE  TO   THM   NEW    HOME  THAT   AWAITED    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. 


870 


ELINOR    ARDEN,    ROYALIST. 


[Aug. 


and  never  missed  a  chance  of  taking  it  out 
to  see  it  sparkle  in  the  sun. 

Chapter  II. 

SOLDIER    GUESTS. 

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 


'EVERY   DAY,    WHEN    LESSONS   WERE   OVER,    SHE   WOULD    PLACE    HER 
SPINNING-WHEEL   BESIDE   THAT   OF    HER    AUNT." 


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  mu.st  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, 


1904] 


KI.INOR    ARDEN,    ROYALIST. 


S7I 


"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,- 


'  )IIS    RIGHT    ARM    RKS  I  ED    IN    A    SLTNG,    AND    HIS    FACE,    HANDSOME    AS    IT    WAS, 
LOOKED    PALE   AND    WORN    WITH    SUFFERING." 


'/  -^ 


ELINOR    ARDEN,    ROYALIST. 


[Aug. 


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- 


'WHEN    SHE    BROL't^HT    HI,M    A    BOWL   OF    DAME    HESTERS 
GOOD    BROTH,    HE    SMILED   GRATEFfLLV. " 


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 
mouth. 

"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 
girl.' 

"  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  —  " 


M.lMiK    AKDKX,    KdVAI.IST. 


8 


/J 


"  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 


TO  EAT  THE£IK   EVENING   MEAL  UNDER  THE   SHADE  OF  AN   OAK-TREE." 

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. 


874 


ELINOR    ARDEN,    ROYALIST. 


[Aug. 


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 

AS   SHE   LOOKED   AT   THE   TEAR-STAINED    FACE." 

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." 


1904.1 


ELINOR    ARDEN,   ROYALIST. 


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 
soldiers. 

"  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 


(7'oA 


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 
basket." 

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 


VACATION    IGNORANCE. 

I.    HIS  NOTION. 


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!" 


II.    HER   NOTION. 


By  Mary  Sigsbee  Ker. 


r^hBci 

irjiie: said  little 

(Diss 

\j ... 

fiinna  Louise,, 

^fje  u;as  fresb  -CroTW  tb< 

;  cllu  uou 

^- 

3ykr)ou^ 

cfon+like  this  oot  Ik  oj^icb  u;e 
9et  f  rom  fbe  cou), 

ive  me  rJoilR-uja^on  r«iik,ifyoa 

co-sel* 


876 


I 


or)\\  V.vi'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 
about." 

Kenton  looked  up  quickly.  "  Yes,"  he  said 
encouragingly. 

"  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- 
fully. 

"  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 


877 


878 


THE    OUT-CURVE. 


[Arc. 


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. 


'io*- 


■  VES,    BABY,"    HE    SAID    ENCOURAGINGLY,    '  I    UNDERSTAND.       1     VE    BEEN    WATCHING   YOU   ALL   SEASON,    PERHAPS   A 
LITTLE  CLOSER  THAN    YOU    IMAGINED.'  " 


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 
game. 

By  three  o'clock  the  grand  stand  was  full,  and 
the  "rooters"  were  piling  into  the  "bleachers." 


>904  1 


TJIE    OUT-CURVE. 


879 


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 
out-curve. 

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- 
patiently. 

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 
children. 

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 


88o 


THE    OUT-CURVE. 


(AfG. 


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  : 

"Safe!" 

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 
fence. 

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- 


TTIK    OTTT-rURVE. 


88l 


*;,*  ^^'>     -^^^^  ,^j 


«'' 


WAS  ONK  CHANCE  IN  A  HUNUKUD, 
AND  ELTON  KNEW  IT." 


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." 


AN   AUGUST    DAY    IN    THE    KIELU^, 


A    GRAMMATICAL    DISPUTE. 


By  John  Bennett. 


A  BROOK  and  a  little  tree  once  went  to 
school 
To  a  bullfrog  that  lived  in  a  puddle; 
They  tried  to  learn   all  of  the  grammar  by 
rule, 
Which  left  both  of  their  heads  in  a  muddle. 
Of  nouns  and   of  pronouns    they  .soon  had 

enough ; 
Prepositions    they    found    most    unbearable 

stuff; 
While  auxiliary  verbs,  they  declared,  were  too 
tough 
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 

fling; 
"  Surely  you  do  not  pose  as  a  model  ?  " 

"  But  Ki'ill  is  correct,"  cried  the  tree,  with   a 
look. 
"  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 
other. 
Thus  a  quarrel  arose  'twi.\t   the  brook  and 

the  tree. 
For  neither  one  knew  enough   grammar  to 

see 
That  perhaps  right  or  wrong  both  or  either 
might  be 
In  the  usage  of  one  or  the  other. 


A    GRAMMATICAI.    DISPUTE. 


883 


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. 


CENTRAL    PARK   TOM. 


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- 
son. 

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. 


A  CAT  TAIL. 


"  Oh,  see,  grandpa.    Oh,  just  look  there  I 
Meow  !  meow  !     What  can  it  be  ?  " 
Said  grandpapa  :  "  I  do  declare, 
That 's  our  ancestral  tree!  " 


-KIULX    DAIZIX" 

OR 
I-ROM    SHARK-l^OY    TO    MERCHANT    I'RINC 

{Begun  in  the  July  number.) 


By  Gensai   Ml  rai 


'■  Kibun  Oaizm  " 
{Wealthiest  Mam 


"  Wanizitme-Kozo ' 
(Shark. Boy) 


Chapikr     III. 


A    BOAT    CAPSIZED A    H AIKBKI:AI)TH    ESCAPE. 

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 
entreaties. 

"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 : 


885 


886 


KIBUX    DAIZIN 


[AlG. 


"  No,  no;  that  small  boat  is  dangerous  ;  and,  if 
you  must  go,  you  had  better  go  out  in  the  U-in- 
mabuiie* 

"  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 
waist." 

"  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. 


>9^-: 


OR    FROM    SMARK-BOV    TO     MKRl  HANT     I'RINLE. 


887 


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 
pine. 

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. 


■THK    LAD    WAS    IN    THE    AIR,    SUSPENDED     BY   THE    ROPE.' 


"  KIBUN    DAIZIX,      OR    FROM    SHARK-BOV    TO    MERCHANT    I'RINCE. 


889 


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. 

THE    TABLES   TURNED. 

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 


890 


KIBUN    DAIZIN 


[Aug. 


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 


•PL'TTING  A   ROPE  ROUND  THE   BODV  OF   THE   SHARK,   THEY  DREW   IT  CLOSE  TO   THE   BLUFF. 


I904-) 


OR    KKOM    SHARK-BOY   TO    MERCHANT    PRINXE. 


891 


day  told  Bunkichi  about  it.  The  latter  said  to 
himself: 

"  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 
trade. 

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 
one. 

"  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 
account." 

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 


892 


KIBUN    QAIZIN 


[Aug. 


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. 


OR    FROM    SlIARK-HOV    TO    MERCHANT    PRINCE. 


893 


"  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. 


'AS  THOUGH   THEV   WERE    STRICKEN    BV    THUNDER    AT  THE   Bov's   WORDS, 
DOWN   THEV  TUMBLED  ON    THE  GROUND." 


"  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 

white. 
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 
sand. 


894 


I 


m'(rmmx^^>mm'^- 


,«  \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 
pleasure. 
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. 


895 


FEEDING   THK    BIRDS 


{From  a  paper  cnttittg  by  Charles  Dana  Gibson, 
viaiie  ivhen  a  boy.) 


GUESSING    SONG. 


By  Henry  Johnson. 

V      

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. 


896 


A    CIIF.AP    TOrR    AROUND    THE    WORLD. 


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 " 


STORIES    OF    MY    PETS. 


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, 
either. 

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 
grieve. 

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 


STOKIKS    Ol'    MV     n-.TS. 


899 


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 
tune. 

You  can  guess  what  came  of  all  this,  can  you 
not  ?  The  happy  little  bird  won  a  good  home 
and  a  loving  mistre.ss. 

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  ^^• 


'  TIIK    POOR   LITTLE    KIKl)    mxriJ   AM)    E'l/Ll.El),    AND  TUGGED   AND  TUGGED."      (SEE  PAGE  goo.J 


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 


900 


STORIES     OF    MY    PETS. 


[Aug. 


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 
sleep. 

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. 


901 


"Dick. 


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. 


902 


STORIES    OF    MY    PETS. 


[Aug. 


This  was  the  reason  that  he  could  think  about 
what  he  saw,  as  he  did  about  the  latch  of  the 
door. 

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. 


in 


.  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, 


•9°4-) 


STdKIKS    Ol      MV     I'KTS. 


903 


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. 


904 


STORIES    OF    MV    PETS. 


[Ai;g. 


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 
fence. 

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 


I9«H-) 


STORIES    OF    MV    TETS. 


905 


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. 


WHEN    THE    BIRDS   WERE    OUR   GUESTS. 

(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. 


906 


WHEN    TIIK    HIRDS    WERE    OUR    GUESTS. 


907 


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 
evening. 

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 


"  WHEV   THSIR   THIRST   WAS    QUENCHED   THEV    PERCHED 
IN   VARIOUS   ATTITUDES   ABOUT  THE   ROOM." 

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!" 


■  THE   BIRDS   DID  NOT  MOVE  AWAY,   BUT 
ALLOWED    US   TO   TOUCH   THEM." 


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- 


9oS 


WHEN    THE    BIRDS    WERE    OUR    GUESTS. 


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 
eagerly. 

"  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 
free. 

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. 


MUSIC    IN   THE    GRASS. 


.J^  1  r. 


»  t*^,a  2 


•"•1 


';'- 


'/    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. 


Yy^ 


II. 


■'^■-.  "> 


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 
grass. 


W  H 


\j^. 


_    1 1,.,-^  'n* 


A   COMEDY    IN    WAX. 

{Begun  in  the  November  nuinber.\ 


Bv  B.  L.  Far  I  EON. 


Chapter  XXVII. 

SOME    MATTERS    OF    BUSINESS. 

"  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. 
Lydia." 

"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 
Lydia." 

"  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 


A    COMEDY    IN    WAX. 


911 


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 
drawing-room. 

"  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 
reahty." 

"  -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- 
weed. 

"  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." 


912 


A    COMEDY    IN    WAX. 


[Aug. 


"  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- 


>904-] 


A    COMEDY    IN    WAX. 


913 


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. 

FAREWELL  TO  MARY- 
BUD  LODGE. 

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 
be.st  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 


THE    CELEBRITIES    WITNESSING    GRIMWEED  S    SIGNATURE. 


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. 


914 


A    COMEDY    IN    WAX. 


"  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. 

BACK    TO    THEIR    PLACE.S. 

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 


THE    CELEBKllIES    lASSlNG    HVT    OF 


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 


A    COMliDV     IN    WAX. 


9'5 


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. 


THE  CATB  OP  MAKYBUD   LODGE. 


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. 

ORANGE-BLOSSOMS    AND    WEDDING-CAKE. 

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 
hours. 

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 


9i6 


A    COMEDY    IN    WAX. 


[Aug. 


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 


"  THOSE    WHO   OCCUPIED  THE    PLACES   OF    THE    MISSING   CELEBRITIES    WERE    CARRIED   OUT    SWIFTLY   AND    DEXTEROUSLY 
BY   LOUSHKIN,    OLIVER    CROMWELL,    AND    HARRY    BOWER." 


"  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 


J904-1 


A    COMEDY  '  IN    WAX. 


A, 


91; 


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." 


THE    EXD. 


REVERSED  PERPETUAL  MOTION. 


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'." 


Sand-P] 


'ABT'S  OAND-l  ILETII^ 


BV  F.CJVi. 

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. 


1 


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 . 


B 


'•"  ^    "    "ITT- 


THREE    SONGS    OF   A   STROLLING   PLAYER. 


By  G.  G.  King. 


THE    WINDS    WILL. 

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. 

II. 


HEY,    NONNV,    NONNY 


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 

flower. 
He  plucked  for  his  bosom  the  blossom 

bonny, 
But  the  flower  was  dead  within  the  hour. 
Hey,  nonny,  nonny! 

III. 

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 

blue 
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. 


A    NAVAL    BOAT    DRILL. 


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- 
parade. 

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, 


A    NAVAL    BOAT    DRILL. 


[Aug. 


however,  let  me  tell  you  how  such  a  drill  is 
conducted. 

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. 


BEDTl.MB    IN    FAIRYLAND. 


THE  BARON  AND  THE  ELVES. 


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 
brought 
Good  fortune  to  themselves. 

But  when  the  couple  side  by  side 
Were  laid  beneath  the  yew, 

To  other  hands  went  house  and 
ands. 
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. 

924 


THE  BARON  AND  THE  ELVES. 


925 


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 
white, 

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." 


M 


■•and    lifting    I'P   THE    SASH    HE    THKIST     HIS 
ANXIOUS   VISAGE   OUT." 

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. 


926 


THE  BARON  AND  THE  ELVES. 


AND   OUT    THEV    SALLIED   THKOL'GH    THE    DOOR   THAT   OPENED   ON    THE   CtKEEN. 


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. 


>9«4-l 


THE    r.ARON    AND    THE    ELVES. 


927 


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. 


928 


THE  BARON  AND  THE  ELVES. 


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. 


A   SUMMER'S    DAY    AT    INNSBRUCK. 


]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. 


A   QL-AINT   CORNER    IN    INNSBRl'CK. 
929 


930 


A    SUMMERS    DAY    AT    INNSBRUCK. 


[Alc. 


CASTLE    AMBRAS. 


walls  of  the  Hof  Kirche.      In  the  dim  religious 
light  we  saw  a  great  white  marble  sarcophagus. 


THZ   COLf.MBLS    PORTRAIT. 


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 
pedestals. 

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 


><i<>*) 


A    SUMMERS    DAV    AT    I.NXSP.KICK. 


931 


BRONZE  STATUES  AT  THK  TOMB  OF  MAXIMILIAN  I,  REPRESENT- 
ING ARTHUR  OF  BRITAIN,  THEODEOBERT  OF  BURGUNDY,  ERNEST 
OF   AUSTRIA,   AND  THEODORIC,    KING  OF   THE  OSTROGOTHS. 


choicest 
Vienna 
Schloss 
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 


932 


A    SUMMER  S    DAY    AT    INNSBRUCK. 


(Aug. 


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 


THE  HOrsE  WITH  THE  GOLDEN  ROOF. 


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.] 


A    SUMMERS    DAY    A  I'     INNSIIKlfK. 


933 


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" 


V-^.        »■■ 


,.,V;.VM 


A    STREET   SCENE    IN"    ISNSBRfCK. 


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. 


NEDDY'S    EVENING   TRIBULATION. 


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  say.to  me, 
"  Come,  dear,  it 's  time  for  bed." 


v^'*. 


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. 


rfS^Si;- 


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 
silly. 

The  flower  with  anger- reddened  face 
Became  a  raging  tiger-lilv. 


TlIK    GRKATEST    SUuW     l.\    Till':    S1:A. 

A    MIDSUMMKR    CARXIVAl,    1 X    MID-OCEAN. 


■-^J  ^  -^^^^^ 


O.r  T7 — 

ret  Ktrtni. 


-^>-- 


"^i*i:,.   I  ill  iiAft-V 


t^ 


^'  >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. 


JELLYFISHES. 

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 


PART  OF  A  COL- 
ONV  OF  HYDROIDS 
(POHPITA  LINNJE- 
NA)  THAT  SOME- 
WHAT SUGGESTS 
BUDS  AND  TWIGS. 

This  close  re- 
semblance often 
makes  these  ani- 
mals regarded  as 
plants  by  those 
who  have  not 
studied  them. 


A  VERY    SMALL   PART    OF  A  COLONY   OF    HYDROIDS 
(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 


SEVERAL    "branches"    OF   A    HYDROID 
COLONY    (CAMPAKl  LARIA  FLEXl  OSA). 

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. 


936 


NATIKK    AM)    S( "  1 K  \  C  K    I'OK    YOUNG     KOI.KS. 


937 


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- 
comfortable. 

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. 


A    HVDKOIU   COLONY   OF    BEAUTtKOL    MINIATURE 
TKKE-UKE   APl-EARANCE. 

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- 


HYDROIDS  THAT    sly'Gf.EST   A   CI.IMP  OF    MOSS. 
(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. 


938 


NATTRE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


[Aug. 


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 


A   HYDROIU   ANIMAL   BREAKING   UP    INTO    SAUCER-LIKE   DISKS. 

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- 


A    HYDROIU  COLONV. 

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    FILL-GROWN    JELLYFISH. 

"  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. 


i9tM-) 


XATUUK    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    VmNC     KOLKS 
THE  SWEET  TOOTH. 


939 


of  snow-water  that  are  i)resent  at  tliis  season  of 
tlie  year. 

La.st  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 
sugar. 

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 


the.se  small  animals  into  danger,  and 
I  think  it  will  convince  you  ai.so  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 


94': 


NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    VULXG    FOLKS. 


[AVG. 


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. 

CYCLONES,  TORNADOES,  AND   HURRICANES. 

These  three  storms  have  many  points  in 
common,  vet  they  are  so  unhke  that  no  careful 


A    SKETCH    OF    A   FUNNEL-SHAPED  CLOUD  OF   A   TOKNADO, 
DISTANT  ABOUT   A   HALF-MILE. 


AHfEAKANCE    OF   THE    S.-\ME   CLOUD,    A    HALF-MI.NUIE    LATER, 
AT   A    DISTANCE   OF    I50  VARDS. 

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 


NATIKK    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


941 


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 
land. 

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. 

HOW  MANY  FEATHERS  ON   A  HEN? 

.An  unusual  feather-guessing  contest  was 
recently  conducted  by  a  prominent  company 
manufacturing  feed  for  poultry.      Five  hundred 


NFARER   VIEW   OF   A   TORNADO,    SHOWING   HU.MAN    FOR.MS,    WAGON-WHEELS,    AND    DEBRIS   DEING  CARRIED   SKYWARD. 


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." 


94^ 


a 


NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


(Aug. 


BECAUSE  WE 
(WANT  TO  KNOW" 


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.  In 
that  case  a  branch  with  flower  and  leaves  will  answer.  A  single 
dried  blossom  or  dead  leaf  may  be  recognized  if  the  plant  is  a  com- 
mon one,  but  it  is  better  to  send  the  whole  specimen. 

migration  by  night  or  day! 

Waukesha,  Wis. 
Dear    St.    Nicholas  :     Do    all   birds    migrate    at 
night,  or  just  certain  species  ?  H.   D.   Sawyer. 

Mr.  Frank  Chapman,  in  "  Birds  of  Eastern 
North  America,"  says  regarding  bird  migration  : 

Birds  of  strong  flight,  like  swallows,  can  easily 
escape  from  bird-killing  hawks,  and  so  migrate  boldly 
by  day.  But  the  shy,  retiring  inhabitants  of  woods 
and  thickets  await  the  coming  of  darkness,  and  then, 
mounting  high  in  the  air,  pursue  their  journey  under 
cover  of  the  night.  Birds  direct  their  flight  by  coast- 
lines and  river  valleys,  which  are  easily  distinguishable 
in  clear  weather.  On  favorable  nights  these  natural 
highways  of  migration  are  thronged  by  a  continuous 
stream  of  aerial  voyagers  from  dusk  to  dawn. 

mysterious  glands  on  the  petiole  of  a  leaf. 

Bru.nswick,  Me. 
Dear  St.  Nicholas:   In  picking  a  twig  of  choke- 
cherry  to-day,  I  noticed  that  on  the  petiole  of  the  leaf 


just  below  where  the  blade  broadens  out,  on  the  upper 
side,  there  are  almost  invariably  two  tiny  green  bunches. 
There  is  the  place  where  in  the  roses  the  lateral  leaflets 
are  placed.  Can  it  be  that  these  bunches  are  rudi- 
mentary leaflets?  For  the  tree  belongs  to  the  Rosaceie, 
which  so  often  has  compound  leaves.  I  will  inclose  a 
few  specimens,  and  if  they  will  not  become  too  withered 
on  the  journey  perhaps  they  will  explain  the  problem 


Clarida 


>^^ 


^ 


TRUMfET-SHAPED    GLANDS    ON    THE   CHEI?RV    LEAF. 

The  upper  part  of  the  illustralion  shows  the  location,  and  the  lower 
part  shows  an  enlarged  view,  of  one  of  the  glands.  The  same  plan 
IS  followed  in  the  ne.vt  illustration. 


tilan 


CAP-SHAPED    GLANDS    ON    A    LEAF    OF   THE    PARTRIDGE-PEA. 

better  than  words.  If  you  can  tell  me  about  it  I  would 
be  very  much  obliged,  for  it  is  a  puzzle  to  a  nature-lover 
and  interested  reader  of  the  Nature  and  Science  de- 
partment. Helen  Johnson. 

These  glands  occur  upon  the  petioles  of  a 
number  of  plants.  Many  guesses  have  been 
made  as  to  their  significance,  but  I  believe 
nothing  positive  is  known  of  their  use  or 
reason  for  being  —  there  is  certainly  nothing 
which  is  generally  agreed  upon. 

Nearly  all  of  these  glands  exude  a  nectar 
which  attracts  bees,  ants,  and  wasps.  It  has 
been  noticed  in  some  instances  that  these  insects 
drive  away  caterpillars  and  other  larvae  which 
might  be  injurious  to  the  plants.  It  is  possible 
that  in  some  instances  the  juices  from  the 
glands  such  as  those  situated  along  the  mar- 
gins of  leaves  have  a  tendency  to  keep  larvas 
from  eating  the  leaves. 

Another  use  suggested  for  them  is  the  diver- 
sion of  crawling  insects  from  the  flowers,  so 
that  the  flower-glands  are  not  robbed  of  their 
power  to  allure  flying  visitors  which  can  trans- 
fer pollen.  It  is  interesting  to  note  that  these 
very  common  glands  should  be  such  a  puzzle  to 
botanists,  notwithstanding  very  careful  study. 


"904-1 


NATIRE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    VOLNC    l-OLKS. 


94- 


MUO-WASPS  IN  SPOOLS. 

OwKOd,  New  York. 

Dkar  St.  NiciI'ii.as:  .Vny  information  concerning 
the  food  of  wasps  will  be  gratefully  received,  as  the 
following  f.icts  have  excited  my  curiosity. 

While  seated  in  an  upper  room,  by  an  open  win- 
dow, one  day,  a  spool  of  thread  seemed  suddenly  en- 
ilowed  with  life,  for  from  the  liole  in  its  center  came 
crawling  forth  six  little  fat  green  worms.  The  next 
day,  while  sitting  at  the  same  table,  a  wasp  flew  in, 
carrying  something  long  and  green.  It  went  directly 
to  the  spool,  and  entered  the  hole  head  first,  dragging 
its  burden  with  it.  Remaining  there  some  time,  it 
slowly  backed  out  and  flew  away.  I  turned  the  spool 
over,  and  out  fell  five  more  green  worms,  brothers  or 
cousins  of  the  former  six. 

On  further   investigation,  another  spool  was  found, 


WREN-WASl'    tOBYSCRIs)    BKI.NGING   A    CATERriLLAK 
TO    ITS    NEST    IS    A   SPOOL. 

Some  of  the  caterpillars  are  crawling  out  of  the  overturned  nest. 
Probably  the  wasp  had  not  stung  them  sufficiently  lo  make  them  in- 
activc- 

The  figure  below  at  left  is  a  spool,  split  lengthwise  lo  show  the 
wren-wasp's  nest  within  and  the  wasp  larva  feeding  on  the  stored 
caterpillars. 

The  figure  below  at  right  shows  the  newly  transformed  wasp 
emerging  from  ihc  cocoon  where  the  pupa  was  incased,  and  push- 
mg  Its  way  out  of  the  nest. 


A    SOLITAKV    DIGGER-WASP    (AMMOPniLA  rK\ARIA}. 

Using  a  stone  to  pound  down  the  earth  over  its  filled 

and  finished  nest  or  burrow. 

(Illustration  by  permission  of  Professor  George  W.  Peckham.) 

the  top  of  wliicli  was  sealed  witli  mud,  and  which  also 
contained  worms.     Yours  very  truly, 

HaRRIKT    M.    GRKENI.liAl'. 

The  solitary  wasps  store  tlieir  nests  with  a 
variety  of  footls  for  their  young ;  spiders,  flies, 
and  caterpillars  are,  however,  the  most  common 
victims.  It  was  probably  the  little  wren-wasp, 
Otlyiienis flavipes,  that  built  in  the  spool.  It 
often  chooses  such  places  for  its  nest,  as  well 
as  nail-holes,  key-holes,  worm-holes  in  wood, 
bottle-necks,  and  one  naturalist  tells  us  that  a 
pistol-barrel  has  even  been  selected  for  the 
jiurpose.  From  this  habit  of  nesting  in  holes 
it  has  received  the  name  of  wren-wasp,  .\dult 
wasps  feed  on  vegetable  sweets,  as  flower  pol- 
len and  ripe  fruit,  on  honeydew,  and  on  many 
small  insects,  such  as  flies,  gnats,  leaf-hoppers, 
etc.  The  caterpillars  that  Odynenis  stores  are 
entirely  for  the  use  of  its  young.  Before  plug- 
ging up  its  nest  an  egg  is  laid  within,  which  in 
a  few  days  hatches  a  small  legle.ss  larva.  Hav- 
ing plenty  of  food,  it  gains  its  full  growth  rap- 
idly, and  after  spinning  a  parchment-like  co- 
coon it  changes  to  an  inactive  pupa.  Later  the 
perfect  wasp  cuts  open  the  cocoon,  pushes  its 
way  out  of  the  nest,  and  soon  flies  away. 

The  solitary  wasps,  as  well  as  the  social 
wasps,  are  very  intelligent.  One  species  com- 
mon in  the  West,  called  Aiinnophila  uniaria, 
makes  a  burrow  in  the  ground  for  its  nest,  and 
it  has  been  observed  to  take  a  little  stone  in  its 
jaws  and  repeatedly  pound  down  the  earth 
when  the  stored  nest  was  finished. — S.  F.  A. 


ST.  NICHOLAS  LEAGUE. 


'A    HE.\D1NG    FOR    .^LGUST.  BY    WESLHV    R.  DELAI'PE,  AGE    j6.       (GOLD    BADGE.) 


DAY-DREAMS. 

l:V    CAIHF.KIXK    LEE    CARTER,    AGK    l6.       {Cas/l  Prizc.) 

I  SAT  beside  the  window  o'er  the  glaring  city  street.  The  poppies,  pinks,   and   pansies,  and  the  columbines 

With  its  endless  noise  and  rattle,  with  its  cars  and  were  there, 

heavy  loads,  And  beside  them   all  the  flaming  spires  of  foxglove 

And  through  the  open  window  surged  and  swelled  the  burned  bright, 
burning  heat ; 

But  I  slept  and  dreamt  of  quiet  farms  and  white  far-  I    gazed  upon  these  treasures  when   the  heavy  dews  of 


reaching  roads- 

Of  roads  that  led  past  corn-fields,  where  the  tinted  bind- 
weed crept. 
And  where  the  stately  lilies  hung  their  heads  of  gor- 
geous hue 
Above  the  little  wayside  brook  that   neither  sang  nor 
leapt, 
But  glided  o'er  its  pebbles,  almost  hid  by  meadow-rue. 


night 

Fell  upon  me,  and  I  started  to  regain  the  lost  highway  ; 
Mut  the  garden  and   its  blossoms   fast  faded  from  mv 
,ight, 
d  I  ^ 
day. 


My  arm,  which  had  been  lying  on  the  grimy  window-sill, 
Was   dampened   by   the   showers  that   had   come   up 
while  I  slept. 

Along  the  way  were  houses,  with  their  gardens   lying      And   below  me   on   the  pavement  the  traffic  thundered 
fair,  still, — 

With  the  beds  of  phlox  and  lilies  and  the  roses  dark  But  in  the  chambers  of  my  heart  those  radiant  flowers 

and  light ;  are  kept. 


The  League  editor  does  not  like  to  repeat  the  same 
old  "  don'ts  "  over  and  over,  but  then,  of  course,  there 
are  a  great  i»any  new  members  all  the  time,  and  even 
some  of  the  old  ones,  who  have  to  be  reminded  as  to  the 
few  but  necessary  rules  that  are  always  to  be  found  on 
the  last  page  of  the  League.  They  are  not  put  there  to 
make  extra  work  for  members,  but  to  guide  them  in 
preparing  and  submitting  work  properly,  so  that  by 
and  by,  when  the  League  is  outgrown,  those  who  are 
trying  to  become  a  part  of  the  world's  art  and  literary 
progress  may  know  how  to  begin,  and  may  feel  that 
they  have  at  least  been  well  taught  in  the  routine  of 
their  undertaking. 

The  editor  has  been  brought  to  saying  this  all  over  by 


the  number  of  good  contributions  that  came  in  this 
month  written  on  both  sides  of  the  paper,  or  unsigned, 
or  not  indorsed,  or  without  the  sender's  age,  or,  if  pic- 
tures, were  drawn  in  color,  or  with  pencil,  etc.,  etc. 
Two  little  girls  broke  all  the  rules  but  one  —  the  one 
which  says  that  every  reader  of  St.  Nicholas,  whether 
a  subscriber  or  not,  is  entitled  to  League  membership 
and  a  badge,  free.  This  rule  they  quoted,  but  they 
sent  a  story  written  and  signed  by  both  of  them,  when 
one  author  to  the  contribution  is  all  that  is  allowed. 
Besides,  the  story  was  too  long,  a  good  deal  more  than 
four  hundred  words.  Xor  was  it  on  the  right  subject. 
What  was  still  worse,  it  was  on  both  sides  of  tlie  paper. 
Then,  too,  it  was  not  indorsed  as  original,  though  the 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


945 


editor  is  willing  to  believe  that  it  was.  He  believes 
that  these  little  girls  were  only  careless,  and  that  is  why 
he  is  writing  the  things  he  has  written  so  often  before, 
so  that  these  two  little  girls  and  a  good  many  more  like 
them  may  have  as  good  a  chance  to  win  prizes  ami  be 
happy  as  all  the  other  young  folks  he  has  had  to  scold 
and  set  right  during  the  past  four  or  five  years. 

Don't  write  or  draw  till  you  know  just  about  what 
you  want  to  do. 

Don't  use  poor  paper  and  worse  ink  and  then  hurry 
to  get  through. 

Such  efforts  never  do  any  good  and  are  only  time 
and  material  wasted. 

Don't  write  that  you  know  your  work  is 
very  bad,  but  that  you  hope  the  editor  will 
give  you  a  prize  anyw.ay.  The  editor's  judi^ 
ment  may  be  at  fault,  but  his  sympathy  is  more 
likely  to  be  aroused  by  good  work  than  by 
any  speci.al  pleas. 

Don't  forget  your  age,  your  address,  anl 
your  p.arent's  indorsement.  Don't  forget  thai 
the  length  of  your  story  and  poem  is  abso. 
lutcly  limited.  Don't  forget  that  the  editor 
has  a  very  large  waste-basket,  and  that  con- 
tributions not  prepared  in  accordance  with 
the  rules  (again  see  last  page)  help  to  fdl  it 
every  month.  Now,  let  's  all  try  to  be  care- 
ful, and  conscientious,  and  happy ;  and  finally, 
whatever  happens,  let  's  have  a  pleasant  va- 
cation. 


PRIZE-WINNERS,   COMPETI- 
TION  No.  56. 


In  making  the  awards  contributors'  ages  ■■happy  days 

are  considered. 

Verse.  Cash  prize,  Catherine  Lee  Carter  (age  16), 
bo.\  64,  Mendhani,  X.  J- 

Gold  badges.  Marguerite  Borden  (age  17),  Estero, 
Lee  Co.,  Fla.,  and  Eleanor  Myers  (age  14),  84  Park 
Place,  Stamford,  Conn. 

Silver  badges,  Margaret  Minaker  (age  15),  Glad- 
stone, Manitoba,  Can.,  and  Grace  Leslie  Johnston 
(age  It),  250  W.  ijSth  St.,  New  \'ork  City. 

Prose.  Cash  prize,  Myron  Chester  Nutting  (age 
13),  217  Clinton  St.,  Tenn  Van,  X.  V. 

Gold  badge,  Dorothy  Johnston  (age  12),  511 
Twenty-seventh  .\vc  ,  Seattli-,  Wash. 

Silver   badges.    Marie    Armstrong    (age    11),    5474 


Cornell  Ave.,  Chicago,  III.,  and  Mildred  Stanley 
Fleck  (age  g).  Golden,  Colo. 

Drawing.  Gold  badges,  Wesley  R.  De  Lappe  (age 
16;,  31  C  St.,  .San  Francisco,  Cal.,  .and  R.  E.  Andrews 
(age  16),  2  Gordon  Terrace,  IJrookline,  Mass. 

Silver  badges,  Homer  V.  Geary  (age  17),  1714 
4th  St.,  Rensselaer,  N.  V.,  and  John  Sinclair  (age  12), 
64  Nonotuck  St.,  Holyoke,  Mass. 

Photography,  (iold  badges.  Frederic  S.  Clark,  Jr. 
(age  II),  17  Commonwealth  .\ve.,  Hoston,  .Ma>s.,  and 
Ruth  G.  Lyon  (ago  13),  ]:,  Orange,  N.  J. 

Silver  ba<igcs,  Mary  Thompson  (age  11),  Greenville, 
Del.,  and  Laura  Mae  Thomas  (a^e  10),  Oxford,  Pa. 


DY  FKEDERIC  S.  CLARK,  JR.,  Al.E  II.   (GOLD  BADGE.) 

Wild  Animal  and  Bird  Photography.  First  prize, 
"  Ruby-throated  Humming-bird,"  by  Catherine  E. 
Campbell  (age  16),  Monmouth.  Polk  Co.,  Oregon. 
Second  prize,  "  Robin  Feeding  Young,"  Ijy  S.  Butler 
Murray,  Jr.  (age  16),  12  Florence  .Ave.,  Ikllevue.  I'a. 
Third  pri/e,  "Turtle  Sunning,"  by  G.  Bushnell  Mer- 
rill (age  13,1,  Peaeed.ale,  R.  I. 

Puzzle-making.  Gold  badges,  Agnes  R.  Lane 
(age  15),  Narragansett  Pier,  R.  I.,  and  George  W. 
Halkett  (age  14),  Ridley  Park,  Pa. 

Silver  Badges.  Charline  S.  Smith  (aije  14),  1145  La. 
St.,  I„awrence,  Kan.,  ami  Benjamin  L.  Miller  (age  14), 
I2Q  X.  Clark  St..  Chicago,  111. 


■-■■_•    ^  ,ft,?^-.-.j^:, 


ST--|yscMjBtAS|EMC«r/     ■   ■;  " 
ml\  ^.^ -^-L  -^  AufiaiT,.-:;*: 


*""'"'""  ■■'^-" 


THE"  DrSOUTF  CflPE-COO  BUWFS.  NETiR. -piioVIIVCfitJWW  ,'|V1A^S. 


'FROM    LIFE."      BV    R.   E.  ANDREWS,  AGE    l6.       (GOLD    BADGE.) 


Vol..  XXXI.— 119. 


946 


ST.     NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[Aug. 


Puzzle-answers.  Gold  b.iclges,  C.  Boyer  (.igt 
15),  444  Spadina  Ave.,  Toronto,  Ont.,  and  Elea- 
nor Wyman  (age  13),  Nunica,  Mich. 

Silver  badges,  Russell  S.  Reynolds  (age  ij;), 
142  \V.  I2th  St.,  New  York  City,  and  Elizabeth 
D.  Lord  (.age  13),  1214  Elk  St.,  Franklin,  Pa. 

DREAMS. 

(Ole  Mammy's  Lullaby.) 

BY  MARGUERITE    BORDEN   (AGE   1 7). 

{Gold  Badge.) 

HusH-A-BABY,  hush-a-baby,  by,  by,  by ; 
Big  roun'  yaller  moon  's  a-shinin'  in  de  sky ; 
Everything  's  a-sleepin'  jes'  as  still  as  still, 
'Cept  a  bird  a-singin'  fo'  to  whip  po'  Will. 

Hush-a-baby,  hush-a-baby,  by,  by,  by ; 
Lots  o'  li'r  skeery  dreams  coniin'  e{  yo'  cry! 
All  de  naughty  chil'uns  sees  de  bogie-man 
Coniin'  fo'  to  ketch  'em,  take  'em  ef  he  can! 

Hush-a-baby,  hush-;i-baby,  by,  by,  by; 
Grea'  white  hobble-gobble  git  yo'  ef  yo'  cry, 
Snatch  yo'  froo  de  windah  sprier  'an  de  cat  — 
L^p  vo'  go  a-flyin'  on  de  ole  black  liat! 


HAPPV  DAVS.    BY  RUTH  G.  LYON,  AGE 


(GOLD    BADGE.) 


HMLVBK.v*!t«VJ  r' -,Wl«3ff^^ 


JLLLbTKATIU.N    I-"UK".M\    LA,M^'I^G    J  Klf. 


Ilush-a-baby,  hush-a-baby,  by,  by,  by  ; 
Et  yo'  good,  ma  honey,  neber,  neber  cry, 
Yo'  '11  see  waterniillions  hangin'  on  de  vin 
Waitin'  to  be  eaten,  settin'  in  a  line! 
Piccaninny,  piccaninny,  Ijy,  by,  by  ; 
Chile,     yo'    min'    yo' 
mammy — don't  yer 
cry,  cry,  cry! 

MY  CAMPING  TRIP. 

BY   MYRO.N   CHESTER    .NUT- 
TING  (AGE  13). 

It  was  a  happy  grou]i 
th.at  was  gathered  on  tlu 
forward  deck  of  the  steamer 
Kattger,  as  she  steamed  out 
of  the  Hoquiam  River  and 
across  the  blue  waters  of 
Gray's  Harbor,  en  route 
forOyhut,  January  2, 1902. 
The  group  consisted  of  my 
father,  mother,  my  St.  Ber- 
nard dog,  and  myself.  Fa- 
ther was  on  his  way  to  take 
charge  of  a  survey  for  a  pro- 
posed railway,  and  we  were 
going  with  him  into  camp. 

What  a  country  in  which 
to  camp!  The  mighty  Pa- 
cific thundering  at  the  foot  "haetv  days 


of  the  Olympic  Mountains,  and  the  sparkling  streams, 
teeming  with  trout  and  salmon,  meandering  through  a 
forest  yet  unmarred  by  the  woodman's  ax. 

At  Oyhut  we  left  the  steamer  and  drove  along  the  beach 
to  Wreck  Creek,  where  camp  had  already  been  pitched. 

The  tents  were 
guarded  from  the  in- 
coming tide  by  a  pile 
of  sand  and  drift- 
wood so  high  that  at 
first  sight  I  was  re- 
minded of  "the 
village  behind  the 
dikes." 

That  night  I  slept 
soundly  on  my  bed 
of  fir  boughs,  and 
was  awakened  by 
what  I  thought 
was  thunder,  but,  when  fully  conscious,  realized  was 
the  waves  of  the  ocean,  or,  as  Tennyson  expresses  it, 
"The  hollow  ocean  ridges  rearing  into  cataracts." 

Thus  began  my  camping  trip.  There  were  eleven 
other  cam]is,  a  description  of  any  one  of  which  would 
fill  many  times  my  allotted 
space.  I  might  tell  of  the 
pack-train  of  twenty-one 
horses  that  moved  our 
camp  from  place  to  place  ; 
of  the  canoe  rides  and  fish- 
ing trips  :  of  the  cruel  way 
tlie  Indians  have  of  hunt- 
ing deer  by  sending  their 
dogs  into  the  woods  to  drive 
them  out  into  the  surf, 
where  they  are  beaten  by 
the  breakers  till  they  are 
exhausted  and  thrown  up 
on  the  beach. 

October  27th  we  broke 
camp  at  theQuillyute  River 
and  moved  to  a  port  on  the 
Straits  of  Juan  de  Fuca, 
where  we  loaded  every- 
thing, horses  and  all,  on  a 
steamer  bound  for  Seattle. 
My  ten  months'  camping 
trip  was  over,  leaving  a 
happy  memory. 


•904) 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAOIE. 


047 


DAY-DREAMS. 

BY    EI.E.'^NOR    MYERS    (AGE   I4). 
(ColJ  Badgi.) 

'T  WAS  just  as  the  sun  was  beginning  to  sink, 
.\nil  the  clouds  to  blush  in  the  sunset  glow, 

That  I  strolled  away  to  the  rocks  to  think. 

Where  the  tide  rushed  on  with  its  ebb  and  flow. 

'T  is  a  beautiful  time  to  think  and  dream 
.As  you  gaze  far  ofT  on  the  glistening  sea, 

.And  often  the  breezes  they  whisper,  't  would  seem, 
.As  thus  they  were  whispering  softly  to  me. 

Far,  far  out  where  the  sky  bent  low 
To  talk  with  the  ocean  wild  and  bright. 

Was  a  ship  that  sailed  toward  the  clouds  aglow, 
.As  they  beamed  in  their  purple  and  golden  light. 

'Out  there!"  said  the  breeze  as  it  kissed  my  face, 
"  Is  a  beautiful  land  where  the  bright  dreams  are. 


"RODIN    FEEDING   VOL'NG.         BV    S.   nUTl.ER    MIRRAN,  JR.,  AGE    l6. 
(SECOND  PRIZE,  **WlLD-BlRu"  FHOTQCRAf'K.) 

That  men  have  dreamt  in  this  lovely  place, 
While  they  gazed  at  the  ocean  stretching  far. 

"Just  look  how  the  ship  steers  out  to  the  west; 
It  is  carrying  a  burden  of  dre.ims  so  gay 
To  that  fairy  place  that  we  all  love  best, 

Where  the  dreams  come  true  and  't  is  always  day." 

The  breeze  grew  still,  but  the  ship  sped  on 

Toward  the  clouds  that  smiled  in  the  purple  west, 

Till  the  night  crept  in  and  the  ship  was  gone. 
And  the  stars  kept  watch  o'er  the  world  at  rest. 

A   CAMPING  TRIP   ON   THE   YUKON. 

BY  DOROTHY  JOHNSTON  (AGE  12). 
(GoU  Badge:) 
I.N  the  summer  of  1899,  mama,  my  brother,  and 
myself  had  a  camping  trip  on  the  Yukon.  Papa  was 
connected  with  the  telegraph  line  that  the  Dominion 
government  put  through  Ixam.  Bennett  to  Dawson,  and 
he  took  us  with  him. 


"  RUBV-THROATED  HUMMING-BIRD.  BV  CATHERINE  E.  CAMPBELL, 

AGE   16.      (FIRST  PRIZE,  "  WILD-BIRD"  PHOTOGRAPH.) 

We  started  out  from  Bennett  on  the  snow  and  ice  with 
our  sleds.  We  went  for  about  one  hundred  miles  this 
way.  AVe  would  camp  for  a  few  days  in  one  place,  and 
then  we  would  go  on  for  a  few  miles.  You  might  think 
this  a  great  hardship,  but  our  tents  were  nice  and  warm 
and  we  were  made  very  comfortable.  The  snow  and 
ice  lasted  until  June.  When  we  came  into  open  waters 
we  got  a  scow.  We  covcreii  it  with  a  tent  and  livetl  in 
it  all  summer,  drifting  down  the  river.  Every  few 
miles  we  would  tie  up  along  the  shore,  and  my  brother 
and  I  would  explore  our  new  stopping-place. 

You  may  think  that  there  were  no  flowers  or  green 
grass,  but  that  is  not  so.  There  were  beautiful  flowers 
that  we  had  not  seen  before,  and  also  some  familiar 
ones.  AVe  traded  goods  and  got  moose  meat  from  the 
Indians.  My  uncles,  who  were  with  us,  went  hunting 
quite  often,  and  brought  home  ptarmigan  and  grouse. 
We  had  a  net  and  caught  a  great  many  fine  fish.  Sev- 
eral bears  were  seen  by  the  men  of  the  party,  and  once 
my  uncle  saw  a  lyn.x  near  our  camp ;  but  the  largest 
animal  we  children  ever  saw  was  a  mink,  and  I  have 
often  regretted  that  I  did  not  have  my  camera  with  me 
to  take  a  picture  for  St.  Nicholas. 

During  the  months  of  June  and  July  it  was  light  all 
the  time.  AVe  thought  it  very  funny  to  have  to  go  to 
betl  with  the  sun  shining.      We  w'ere  from  the  month 


H^ki           ■.'.  >»■ 

wti^' 

|B|  ^ 

■^i  '    %   ■  \IiV\  A   Ml    nH 

^m 

"TLRTLE    sinning."       BV   C.   BUSHNELI.    MERRILL,  AGE    I3. 
(THIRD    PRIZE,  "wild-animal"    PHOTOGRAl'H- ) 


948 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[Aug. 


'A    HEADINU    FOR    AUGUST.  BY    HOMER    \'.   GEARV,  AGE    17.       (SILVLR    BADGE.) 


of  April  until  the  end  of  September  on  our  trip.  I 
must  not  forget  to  tell  you  about  the  lovely  wild  ber- 
ries. There  were  raspberries,  strawberries,  blueberries, 
cranberries,  and  black  and  red  currants.  We  came  back 
from  Dawson  on  a  steamer.  The  days  were  growing 
very  short  again,  and  winter  was  drawing  near.  We 
had  seen  the  wild  geese  start  for  the  south,  and  we 
thought  it  time  we  were  going  home. 

A    DAY-DREAM. 

BY    MARG.4RET    MINAKER  (.\GE    I5). 

{Silver  Badge.) 
Ah  !   is  a  day-dream  but  a  cobweb  gay 
That  glitters,  golden  tlireads,  beneath  the  sun. 
And  nothing  more ;   that  with  the  touch  of  one 
Small  hand  forever  's  lightly  brushed  away? 
Ah!  no;  't  is  something  more;  't  is  this,  I  say — 
That  which,  when  youth  starts  out  life's  race  to 

run. 
Shows  not  the  course  a  hard  and  rugged  one; 
But,  like  a  haze  on  sunny  autumn  day. 
Hiding  the  rocks,  the  rifts,  and  treacherous  sod 
In  that  long  path,  while  dimming,  beautifies 
The  stern  hard  future  to  their  youthful  eyes ; 
And  they,  with  hearts  where  fear  has   found  no 

place. 
Go  forth  to  conquer  and  to  win  the  race. 
With  trustful  faith  in  love  and  man  and  God. 

MY   CAMPING  TRIP. 

BY   MILDRED   STANLEY  FLECK   (AGE  9). 
{Silver  Biu/ge.) 


had  room  to  tell  you  of  all 
the  funny  things  that  hap- 
peneti  there  and  on  the 
whole  trip,  but  they  would 
fill  a  small  book.  On  the 
first  high  hill  that  we 
crossed  we  found  delicious 
wild  raspberries,  and  saw 
the  distant  prairie  looking 
like  a  golden  fairy  sea. 
Down  on  the  other  side  we 
came  into  Idaho  Springs. 
It  was  Sunday,  and  tlie 
town  was  thronged  with 
picnickers  from  Denver. 
We  went  over  Berthoud's 
Pass  and  down  into  Middle 
Park,  a  huge  green  meadow 
crossed  by  silver  streams 
in  a  circle  of  purple  moun- 
tains. At  Sulphur  Springs 
we  turned  into  Grand  Riv- 
er Caiion.  Here  the  river  is 
a  magnificent  trout-stream 
crashing  down  between 
high  walls  of  red  rock. 
Where  the  cafion  ends  the 
river  is  broad  and  still,  with 
green  on  each  side,  but  the 
hills  along  it  are  desert.  Dorothy  and  I  bathed  in  the 
river.  One  day  we  came  to  a  plain  with  the  Sphinx  itself 
keeping  guard.  It  is  called  Tapanas  Rock.  Here  we 
were  caught  in  a  cloud-burst  and  drenched  before  we 
could  reach  a  house.  Next  morning  there  came  a  wagon 
with  Uncle  Percy  and  Sid.  .Sid  told  funny  stories  and 
tried  to  frighten  us  by  pointing  out  bear  and  bob-cat 
tracks.    After  several  days  we  reached  tlie  Grassy  Creek, 


{ 


'HAPPY   DAYS.  B\-    LAURA    MAE   THOMAS,  .'VGE  lO.      (SILVER  BADGE.) 


On  the  9th  of  August  we  left  Evergreen,  Colorado, 
to  cross  the  Range.  There  were  father  and  mother, 
Mrs.  Buell  and  Arthur  Buell,  Dorothy  Buell  and  I. 
We  had  a  double-team  w-agon  loaded  with  tents,  pro- 
visions, and  necessary  clothing;  and  there  were  three 
saddle-horses,  which  we  were  to  take  turns  in  riding. 
The  road  that  we  took  followed  up  Bear  Creek,  and  we 
camped  the  first  night  on  the  Evans  Ranch.     I  wish  I 


where  we  camped  for  nearly  a  week.  We  had  traveled 
one  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  .^t  first  we  had  to  eat  sage- 
hen,  but  soon  got  grouse  and  venison.  It  was  a  wild, 
lonely  place,  but  some  one  had  left  there  all  sorts  of 
furniture — even  a  sewing-machine — to  get  a  homestead 
claim.  Sid  was  fond  of  saying:  "Lookout!  A  yowl- 
cat  '11  get  you!"  Sid  says  a  "yowl-cat"  is  anything 
that  walks  on  four  legs  and  does  n't  eat  grass.     It  was 


•9a«-) 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


949 


a  time  never  to  be  forgotten,  but  at  last  we  had  to  pull 
Dp  stakes,  and  then— hey  for  home  by  the  way  we  had 
come! 

THE    RIVER   OF    DREAMS. 

IIY   MARY   TRAVIS   HEWARD    (aGK    I5). 
Calm  and  deep,  calm  and  deep, 

Flows  the  silver  stream 
To  the  Fairyland  of  Sleep, 
Ending  in  a  dream. 
Far  away,  far  away, 

Where  the  shadows  roam- 
There,  the  sleepy  s.iges  say, 
Lies  the  Dreamlanil  Home. 

Now  we  glide,  now  we  glide 

In  our  fairy  bark  ; 
O'er  the  ripple  slightly  ride — 

Ride  into  the  dark. 
All  afloat,  all  afloat, 

Down  the  silver  stream. 
In  our  idly  rocking  boat. 

Drifting  in  a  dream. 


Spirits  nigh,  spirits  nigh. 

While  our  shallop  goes. 
Ever  croon  a  lullaby. 

Little  eyes  to  close. 
Little  lips,  little  lips 

Smile,  —  our  shallop  fast 
Soft  into  the  harbor  slips — 

Slumberland  at  last! 


'•  HAPPY   DAYS.  BY    SPENCER    L.  JU.NEs,  AGE    I4, 


MY   ENCAMPMENT   TRIP. 

BY   MARIE   ARMSTRONG    (AGE    II). 
{Sikvr  Badge.) 

Mv  one  experience  in  camping  was  with  the  Missouri 
Nation.il  Guard,  composed  of  four  regiments,  one  bat- 
tery of  artillery,  and  two  hundred  officers,  at  Nevada, 
Missouri.  It  w.is  very  hot  there  ;  in  the  tent  the  ther- 
mometer would  register  i  ij"^.  The  heat  was  so  intense 
that  the  grass  was  dried  and  dead. 

We  arriveil  there  Sunday  morning,  and  left  the  Sun- 
day following.  It  seldom  rained  there.  Often  we  would 
see  huge  clouds  wend  their  way  toward  us,  darkening 
the  sky,  but  never  a  drop  of  rain  would  relieve  us. 

.\t  4  A.M.  the  reveille  would  be  sounded  at  head- 
quarters first,  and  would  be 
echoed  throughout  the  en- 
tire camp.  In  the  space  of 
a  few  minutes  the  camp  was 
alive  and  bustling  with  prep- 
arations for  the  day  and 
general  good  humor,  for 
camp  life  is  looked  forwaril 
to  by  the  soldiers  from  one 
year  to  the  ne.xt,  as  many  of 
them  are  poor  young  men 
whose  only  vacation  is  this. 

After  breakfast,  the  prac- 
tice-drill Would  take  place 
throughout  the  entire  bri- 
gade, the  intense  heat  mak- 
ing it  necessary  to  get  all 
serious  work  in  before  seven 
o'clock. 

Many  orders  are  given 
from  the  general's  tent  by 
the  bugle. 

One  day  the  governor  and 


his  staff  came,  and  were  received  at  the  gates  of  camp  by 
the  general  and  his  staff  in  all  their  gold  lace  and  regi- 
mentals. 

One  beautiful  ceremony  was  the  lowering  of  the  flag. 
Every  evening,  at  sunset,  the  flag  would  be  lowered 
amid  the  strains  of  the  "  Star  Spangled  Banner,"  a  can- 
non would  be  fired,  and  the  emblem  of  freedom  would 
slowly  descend.  The  general  and  his  staff  would  be 
present,  and  every  head  would  be  bared  as  the  old 
familiar   strains   would   float   over  the  camp. 

.■\fter  this  came  the  dress 
parade,  in  which  the  whole 
brigade  would  file  past  the 
general  in  review. 

Finally  came  the  breaking 
of  the  camp.  It  was  inter- 
esting in  a  sort  of  sad  way. 
At  the  first  note  of  the  bugle 
the  men  untied  the  ropes  of 
their  tents.  At  the  second 
the  stakes  were  loosened  and 
the  men  stood  by,  ropes  in 
hand,  waiting  for  the  next 
signal.  At  the  third  the 
ropes  were  pulled,  and  the 
camp  was  nothing  but  a  flat 
pKain  with  strips  of  canvas 
throughout.  Everything  then 
was  packed  and  loaded  on 
trains,  and  taken  to  the  State 
armory.  The  soldiers  were 
then  marched  to  the  train  in  companies;  we  followed, 
and  so  ended  my  camp  life  of  so  many  pleasant  memories. 

D.\Y-DREAMS. 

BY  GRACE    LESLIE  JOH.NSTON    (AGE  II). 
{Sihcr  Badge.) 

When,  with  my  head  upon  my  hand,  I  puzzle  o'er  per 

cent.. 
And  woniler  who  Columbus  was,  and  where  on  earth 

he  went, 
I  long  to  see  the  birds  again,  to  hear  the  ocean  roar; 
1  long  to  see  the  trees  grow  green  and  pick  the  flowers 

once  more. 
And  then,  when  August   comes  around,  I  idly  lie  and 

dream, 
.•\nd  wish  the  sun  was  not  so  hot  to  dry  up  i?// the  stream. 


ULCHANAN.   AGE    12. 


950 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[Aug. 


SAINT 

U£hQ\Jt 

Aumsr 


A    HEADING    FOR    AUGUST.  B\     MAKGER\     FLLION,   AGE 


DREAMS. 

I;V    H.VliOLD    R.    XORRIS    (AGE    II). 

I  DREAM  I  see  a  little  flower, 
Who  on  the  earth  doth  lie, 

And  suddenly,  without  a  sound. 
It  goes  up  to  the  sky ; 

And  from  it  steps  a  fairy  small, 
.\nd  says  with  elfin  grace: 
"Oh,  ^[r.  Sun,  come  show  to  me 
Your  kind  and  gracious  face." 

And  then   the  clouds  all  break 
away. 

And  all  the  thunders  still, 
And  out  in  glory  comes  the  sun 

O'er  field  and  dale  and  hill. 


'T  is  then  we  long  for  one  good  breeze,  one  handful  of 

cool  snow, 
And  wish  that  winter's  ice  was  here  and  summer's  sun 

would  go! 

MY   CAMPING   TRIP. 

BY  MARGARET    F.    NYE    (AGE    1 3). 

Camping  out!  How  delightful  it  sounds!  Indeed, 
how  delightful  it  is!  At  least  I  thought  so  after  trying 
it  one  summer. 

AVe  diti  not  camp  out  in  the  woods.  Our  tents  were 
pitched  in  a  pretty  little  village  not  far  from  our  home. 

We  had  two  tents,  end  to  end.  The  front  one  con- 
tained a  large  bed-lounge,  a  table,  a  desk,  a  bureau,  and 
chairs.  The  other  tent  held  a  bed,  a  cot,  a  "  home- 
made" wardrobe,  our  trunks,  and  a  little  oil-stove. 
One  corner  was  curtained  off  for  a  bath-room. 

About  two  or  three  yards 
from  the  '*  back  door  "  was 
a  grape-vine,  shutting  us  in 
and  making  a  cozy  little 
back  yard. 

Oh,  the  delights  of  that 
summer !  When  a  storm 
would  be  seen  approach- 
ing, the  stakes  had  to  be 
driven  in  securely,  the 
hammocks,  chairs,  and 
cushions  had  to  be  taken 
in,  and  then  we  would  go 
in  and  listen  to  the  rain- 
drops pattering  on  the  can- 
vas. 

Then  in  the  evening  we 
would  sit  out  under  the 
trees,  or  if  it  rained  we 
made  candy  on  the  stove. 

Any  one  that  you  ask 
will  tell  you  that  camping 
out  is  great  sport.  If  you 
must  have  still  better  proof, 
try  it  yourself.  ..  ,,^^,,^,^,  „^^^ 


TO   NEW    READERS. 

The  St.  Nicholas  League  is  an  organization  of  St. 
Nicholas  readers.  Every  reader  of  the  magazine, 
whether  a  subscriber  or  not,  is  entitled  to  a  League 
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MY   CAMPING   TRIP. 

BY    HELEN   J.    SIMPSON    (AGE  I4). 
Bealtifll  Lake  Hopatcong!      What  spot  within  as 
few  miles  of  New  York  could   be  so  perfect?     It  was 
here  I  spent  the  most  delightful  fortnight  of  my  life. 

There  were  five  in  the  party:  Tom,  Roger,  Nina, 
Re.\,  and  myself.  Rex  and  I  were  the  youngest,  the 
others  being  quite  grown  up  in  comparison.  We 
pitched  our  camp  on  one  of  the  prettiest  parts  of  the 
lake,  known  as  the  river  Styx.  Choosing  a  name  oc- 
casioned considerable  discussion  ;  but  at  last  Rex  sug- 
gested "Camp  Peanuts."  All  objections  to  this  name 
were  overruled  by  the  boys,  who  shouted  '*  Camp  Pea- 
nuts," until  the  name  was  taken  up  by  the  mountains 
and  echoed  and  reechoed  far  and  wide. 

It  was  great  fun  setting  up  the  camp,  and  when  the 
work  was  completed,  and 
"Camp  Peanuts"  painted 
in  gilt  letters  above  the  en- 
trance, we  surveyed  our 
work  with  satisfaction. 

With  the  exception  of 
the  following  incident, 
which  I  think  worthy  of 
relating,  our  experiences 
were  much  the  same  as 
those  of  any  campers,  even 
the  one  rainy  day,  when 
we  were  almost  drowned 
out,  affording  more  or  less 
enjoyment. 

One  morning  we  went 
trolling  in  pairs,  Rex  ami 
I  being  together. 

For  a  time  neither  Rex 
nor  I  felt  a  bite,  but  pres- 
ently Rex  caught  a  sunfish, 
and  before  he  had  rebaited 
I  landed  a  perch.  We 
continued  to  catch  enough 
to  make  us  forget  the  time 
until  Rex,  happening  to 
look  up,  noticed  that  the  sun  was  directly  overhead. 
Suddenly  we  remembered  that  we  were  hungry. 

Rex  took  the  oars,  but  as  he  did  so  I  felt  a  strong, 
steady  tug.  I  reeled  in  slowly,  the  fish  tugging  so  that 
I  could  scarcely  hold  the  rod.  Rex  and  I  were  wild  with 
excitement,  and  as  I  brought  the  fish  toward  the  sur- 
face. Rex  grasped  the  net  and  leaned  over  the  edge  of 
the  boat  to  land  him.  He  succeeded  in  getting  the  net 
under  the  fish,  but  Mr.  Fish  made  a  dart  to  one  side. 


CHL'RCH,  AGE    12, 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


951 


Rex  leaned  still  farther  over,  .intl,  losing  his  balance, 
fell  with  a  spLish  into  the  lake. 

I  was  so  overcome  with  merriment  that  I  let  my  fish 
go ;  Imt  Rtx  refused  to  see  the  joke.  He  clambered 
into  the  boat  and  sat  there,  dripping  wet,  the  most  for- 
lorn and  ridiculous  object  I  ever  saw. 

I  dropped  the  oars,  fairly  shrieking  with  laughter, 
and  Kex  was  too  good-natured  not  to  join  in  the 
lau^h. 

Our    fortnight   passed  very  quickly,  and   too 
soon  arrived  the  day  to  break  camp. 

At  last  all  was  over,  .ind  we  were  speed- 
ing  toward    home ;    but    I    know   none 
of   us    will   ever    forget    the    happy 
days  spent  at  Camp  Peanuts  on 
delightful  Lake  Hopatcong. 


"a  heading    for   AfGfST.         BV    MARGARET  -McKEO.N,  AGE    14 

MV   CAMI'ING   TRir. 

BY    EDITH    M.    CVfES  (AGE    1 7). 

After  a  seven-mile  drive  we  pitched  our  tent  on  the 
edge  of  a  bluff  o'erlooking  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  amidst  an 
evergreen  grove— an  ideal  camping-place. 

Ticks  were  fdled  with  straw  and,  after  a  simple  meal 
eaten  round  the  driftwood  fire,  bedfellows  were  as- 
signed, and  camp  life  began. 

Long  after  our  elders  slept 
we  girls  lay  awake  story-tcU- 
ing,  listening  to  the  boom  of 
the  incoming  tide. 

"  Karly  to  bed,  and  early 
to  rise,"  was  our  motto.  Sev- 
en o'clock  always  found  break- 
fast re.-idy.  We  lived  simply, 
but  the  bracing  air  made 
everytliing  taste  delicious. 

.After  breakfast-dishes  were 
washeil  and  jiut  away  in  an 
improvised  chin.i-closet,  we 
took  long  walks  up  the  stony 
beach  or  along  the  bluffs'. 
F-very  afternoon  we  went  ii. 
bathing.  The  water  was  ex 
hilaratingly  cold. 

Not  far  from  camp  stood 
the  old  French  cross,  erected 
in  memory  of  the  .\cadian 
exiles,  who  perished  there. 
From  the  driftwood  strewn 
round  it  we  carved  souvenirs. 


The  biweekly  mail  was 

a    great    event.      Letters 

were  very  welcome. 
The  weather  had  been 

perfect,   but  one  evening 

as  we  were  preparing  for 

bed  the  rain  commenced 

to  fall   in   torrents.     We 

were  very  snug,  and  fell 

asleep    listening    to    the 

patter  on  the  tent. 

Suddenly  we  were  awa- 

kened  by  a  flashing  light    ^„^  ^„^^^„  ^^^^^^   ^^^^  ^,.„^^, , 

A  neighboring  farmer  and 

his  wife,  laden  w  ith  umbrellas  and  lanterns,  had  come 

to  escort  us  to  their  home.    l!ut  we  were  too  cozy  to  go 

out  into  the  rain,   so  we  thanked  them,  and  drowsily 

watched  them  depart. 

Evenings  we  gathered  around  the  camp-fire  and  s.ing. 
Once  we  tried  a  candy-pull,  but  the  mo- 
lasses scorched,  and  the  candy  was  brittle. 
.\  few  days  before  leaving  camp  we  gave 
a  Parish  Tea.  -All  the  farmers  came,  and 
in  the  evening  we  built  a  huge  bonfire  on 
the  beach. 

•Ml  were  sorry  to  break  up  camp,  but  a 
thunderstorm  threatened  which  we  were  n't 
sorry  to  miss. 

We  rattled  down  the  mountain  on  the 
load  at  a  good  p.ace,  swaying  from  side  to 
side,  singing  all  the  way.  We  arrived  home 
tired  and  dusty  in  time  for  tea.  Oh,  how- 
good  it  seemed  to  sleep  in  the  clean  white 
beds  that  night!  Soon  after  I  returned  to 
my  home  in  the  United  St.ites,  bringing 
with  me  many  photographs  and  pleasant 
memories  of  my  camping  trip  in  beautiful 
Nova  .Scotia. 

DAY-DREAMS. 

BY    I.OflSE    r.MNE    (.\GE   9). 

I  i.ovE  to  lie  on  the  cushions 

And  build  castles  in  the  air. 
Of  the  days  that  are  yet  before  me 

When  I  '11  be  a  damsel  fair. 


'11  be  a  queen,  and  ride 
In  a  carriage  made  of 

gold  ; 
11  have  knights  in  clash- 
ing armor, 
.As  in  the  d.ays  of  old. 


'  HAPl'V    DAYS 


I'.V    ELSIE    WORMSER,  AGE    I3. 


I  '11  have  two  little 
pages 
Who  will  beside  me 
stand. 
To  be  ready  on  the  in- 
stant 
To  obey  my  least  com- 
mand. 

But  hark!    I  hear  some 
one  calling! 
-Ah,  yes,  it  is  time  for 
tea; 
.\nd  my  day-dreams  fade 
iruo  open  air, 
Like  mist  upon  the 
sea! 


952 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[Aug. 


1    HEADINX.    FOR    AUGUST. 
ALINE  J.  DREYFUS,  AGE    I3 


MY   CAMPING   TRIP. 

BY    MOWBRAY   VELTE    (AGE    lo). 

About  four  summers  ago  I  spent  four  months  in 
Cashmere,  and  camped  in  the  Siddar  Valley  in  a  place 
called  Pailgam,  which  lies  at  the  foot  of  the  Himalay.a 
Mountains.  I  will  now  tell  you  how  I 
got  there. 

We  started  from  Lahore,  Punjab, 
in  the  evening,  and  went  by  train  to 
Pindi. 

Pindi  is  an  important  military  station, 
where  British  troops  are  garrisoned. 

From  Pindi  we  went  in  a  two-wheeled 
conveyance  called  a  tonga  to  a  military 
hill  station  called  Murree. 

The  tonga  is  drawn  by  two  horses, 
which  are  changed  every  five  or  six  miles 
for  fresh  ones.  The  driver  has  a  horn 
which  he  blows  to  let  people  know  he  is 
coming.  The  vehicle  has  a  canvas  cover 
over  it. 

From  Murree  we  went  in  another 
two-wheeled  conveyance,  which  shakes 
a  great  deal,  and  is  drawn  by  one  horse, 
which  is  never  changed. 

This  conveyance  is  called  an  ekka, 
and  took  us  to  a  place  called  Bar.amiila 
in  five  days. 

We  had  two  servants  with  us,  and  .  ,,  . 
while  we  were  traveling  by  ekka  we  ,  J^ 
had  our  meals  camp  fashion.  ^"^ 

At  Baramiila  we  got  a  boat  called  a 
dunga  and  went  to  Srinagar. 

A  dunga  is  a  house-boat,  which 
has  a  straw  roof.  The  passengers 
live  in  the  front  and  have  two  rooms. 

At  Srinagar  we  saw  a  palace,  and  part  of  it  looked 
like  a  Christmas  cake,  it  was  so  gay. 

From  Srinagar  we  went  by  boat  to  Islamabad,  .and 
from  there  we  rode  on  pack-mules  without  any  saddles 
to  Pailgam. 

There  we  pitched  our  tents.  We  slept  in  our  tents, 
but  stayed  out  of  doors  all  day.  Our  tents  were  pitched 
in  a  forest  of  pines. 

We  lived  very  near  the  river  Liddar,  and  used  to  go 
fishing  in  it  with  pin-hooks. 

Every  night  we  had 
a  large  bonfire. 

Once  we  all  went  to 
the  source  of  the  Jhe- 
lam  River.  We  had  to 
cross  the  river  on  our 
return  journey,  but 
found  we  could  not  do 
so  because  the  bridge 
had  been  swept  away 
by  a  flood. 

We  also  had  to  stay 
two  days  at  a  small 
hamlet  called  .Aru,  and 
eat  boiled  rice  and  milk, 
because  of  the  great 
and  unexpected  rise  of 
the  river. 

I  and  my  sister  rode 
on  chairs  strapped  on 
to  coolies'  backs. 

.A  black  dachshund 
rode  all  the  way  in  each 
of  our  chairs  in  turn. 


A   DAY-DREAM. 

BY   KATHLEEN   A.    BURGESS  (AGE    II). 

I   DRE.\M'r  as  I  lay  on  the  golden  sand. 

With  the  heaven's  blue  stretching  above, 
And  the  waves  sang  a  song  that  no   heart  could  with- 
stand. 
It  was  so  overflowing  with  love. 

I  dreamt  that  I  saw  a  beautiful  ship 
Being  blithely  blown  over  the  sea. 

And  the  masts  were  of  gold  and  the 
sails  were  of  silk. 
And  there  it  lay  waiting  for  me. 

As  I  stepped  aboard  my  beautiful  barge, 
There  appeared  fairies  three : 

One  went  to  the  helm,  one  went  to  the 
wheel, 
.And  the  sweetest  one  steered  for  me. 

They  sang  me  a  song,  a  beautiful  song. 
That  mingled  its  notes  with  the  sea. 

Till  we  reached  the  Isle  of  Eternal  Joy 
.\nd  Endless  Melody. 

OUR   CAMPING  TRIP. 

BY   MARGEREE   \V.   PITTS    (AGE    I4). 

When*  I  %\as  about  seven  years  old 
my  mother  and  I  went  to  visit  some 
friends  by  the  name  of  Hammond, 
They  had  a  daughter  Marjorie,  who 
was  my  only  companion. 

Mr.  Han^mond  in  his  younger  days 
had  been  a  s.iilnr ;  and  it  was  still  his 
delight  to  sit  in  the  sun  and  spin  yarns.  He  also  had 
brought  home  with  him  his  sailor  hammock,  and  for 
Marjorie's  and  my  benefit  he  took  it  from  the  attic  and 
hung  it  several  yards  from  the  side  of  the  house. 

With  it  came  stories  of  the  delights  of  sleeping  out 
of  doors,  and,  as  Marjorie  and  I  loved  anything  novel, 
we  put  our  heads  together  and  planned  how  we  could 
accomplish  this. 

Various  plans  were  suggested,  but  we  gave  them  all 
up  and  decided  to  ask  our  mothers  for  permission  to 
camp  out  in   the   yard  that  night. 

Our  mothers  readily 
consented — and  smiled. 
We  were  overjoyed, 
and,  as  soon  as  it  was 
bedtime  kissed  the  two 
mothers,  and  with  blan- 
kets and  pillows  jumped 
in  the  hammock. 

-As  long  as  the  lights 
were  bright  in  the  house 
we  thought  it  great  fun, 
but  when  they  were  put 
out  (earlier  than  usual 
it  seemed)  we  began  to 
think  and  talk  about  the 
gipsies  that  had  been 
around  that  day.  A 
big  boy  had  told  us  that 
they  would  come  into 
people's  yards  and  take 
little  girls  and  hurt 
them. 

We  then  began  to 
count  sheep,  but  before 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


953 


we  had  counted  ten  the  most  blood-curdling  groans  and 
moans  came  from  the  darkened  house. 

Marjoric  hung  on  to  me  and  I  to  her,  both  of  us  too 
scared  to  move. 

Finally  .Marjorie  said  in  a  weak  little  voice:  "  Don't 
you  think  our  mothers  are  lonesome?  " 

I  answered  "Yes";  and  with  that  two  little  forms 
jumped  out  of  the  hammock  and  ran  to  the  house,  where 
they  were  soon  clasped  in  their  mothers'  arms  and  borne 
upstairs  to  bed. 

Through  the  open  door,  when  Marjorie  was  dropping 
to  sleep,  I  heard  her  say,  "  I  think  this  is  the  best  place 
to  camp." 

BESSIE'S   DREAM. 

BY   ALICE  CONE   (ACE    II). 

Bessie  was  a  little  girl; 

Her  age  was  nine  or  ten  ; 
She  'd  been  to  school  for  six  long  years. 

And  did  not  know  all  then. 


"AMMAL  LIFE."      EDNA    WADDKLL,  AGE 


A  HEADING  FOR  AUGLST."     BY  JOHN    SINCLAIR,  AGE    I=.      (SILVER  BAUGE.) 


Now  Bessie  dreamed  a  dream  one  night 
When  every  one  was  sleeping — 

She  dreamed  that  fairies  small  and  bright 
Were  at  her  side  a-peeping. 

One  pretty  fairy,  all  in  white 

(The  fairy  queen  of  old). 
She  came  and  stood  by  Bessie's  bed, 

.^nd  waved  a  wand  of  gold. 

"  What  do  you  wish,  my  little  girl?  " 

The  fairy  queen  then  said. 
"  I  wish  to  know  of  everything 

That  I  've  not  seen  or  read." 

She  waved  her  wand,  and  everything 

Began  to  fade  away. 
And  then — oh,  dear!   our  Bessie  woke 

To  study  all  that  day. 

DRAKE. 

BY    TO.NY    VAUGIIAN    (AGE   7). 

Our  hero  Drake  he  sailed  the  seas  for  England,  home, 

and  beauty ; 
He    fought    for  us   and    nobly  lived,    and    always    did 

his  duty. 

Vol.  XXXI.—  120. 


DAY-DREAMS. 

BY  J.    HORTO.V    DANIELS    (aGE    12). 

Oft  I  wish  I  were  a  cloud 
That  floats  about  the  sky : 

I  'd  look  'way  down  on  Mother  Earth, 
.•\nd  feel  that  I  'm  so  high. 

A  cloud  as  fleecy  as  a  lamb, 
But  not  a  thunderous  one, 

Nor  one  that  hides  the  whole  blue  sky 
And  keeps  away  the  sun. 

I  'd  ride  about  from  morn  till  night, 

.•\round  the  sky  so  blue^ 
But  when  I  stop  to  think  awhile, 

I  fear  I  might  miss  you. 

And  when  I  think  of  leaving  home 

.■\nd  all  the  loved  ones  dear, 
I  think  I  'd  rather  be  a  boy 
And  stay  with  you  right  here. 

DAY-DREAMS. 

BY   ADELAIDE    NICHOLS   (AGE   9). 

Whe.n'  I  grow  to  be  a  man 

I  shall  be  a  mighty  kingl 
I  shall  wear  a  golden  crown 

And  a  sparkling  diamond  ring. 

I  shall  have  a  prancing  charger 

And  a  chariot  of  gold ; 
I  '11  be  arrayed  in  costly  furs 

To  keep  me  from  the  cold. 

But  even  when  I  am  a  king 
I  '11  be  kind  and  good  and  just, 

And  all  my  friends  and  servants 

Will  know  well  whom  they  can  trust. 

NOTICE  TO  FAR-OFF  MEMBERS. 

A  NUMBER  of  League  members  living  in  such  distant  lands  as 
Australia,  New  ZeaL-ind,  Asia,  and  South  Africa  have  asked  that  we 
announce  a  competition  far  enough  ahead  to  allow  them  to  take  part 
III  it.  To  all  such  wc  would  say  that  the  present  list  of  subjects 
throughout  will  be  repeated  in  November,  except  that  the  ' '  heading  " 
illustration  will  be  for  Januar>-,  and  the  "  episode  "  will  be  French 
hi>tory  instcad_  of  American.  This  will  give  three  months,  which 
will  be  ample  time  for  even  the  most  remote  League  dweller.  We 
may  add  that  as  the  puzzle  competitions  have«o  special  subject, 
these  are  always  available,  while  in  the  matter  of  drawings  the 
"headings"  and  "tailpieces"  run  the  year  round  and  may  be 
prepared  and  forwarded  many  weeks  ahead. 


^ 


954 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[Aug. 


THE  ROLt   OF   HONOK. 


Robert  Ellsworth  Scott  Rita  Wood 
Elizabeth  Strong  Meade  Bolton 

Samuel  Merrill  Foster   Georgiana  Wood 
Minnie  Gwyn 


PROSE 


'  A  HEADING  FOR  AUGUST.        BV  M.   POWELL,  AGE  12. 


brant 
Jean  Plant 
No.  I.    A  list  of  those  whose  work  would  have  been  Prudence  Ross 
published  had  space  permitted.  florence  Kauf- 

No.  2.    A  list  of  those  whose  work  entitles  them  to  TVf"^^"v(;   -o 
honorable  mention  and  encourazement.  Mary  W.  Ball 

^  Mary  White 

Found 
VERSE  I.  Edith  J.  Minaker  Alice  Knowles 

Susan  Warren  Wilbur    Margaret  Maclennan 
Jessie  Barker  Coit  Dorothy  Walker 

Teresa  Cohen  Kathryn  Rothschild 

Laura  Lois  Olds  Anna  Hunt  Welles 

Julia  Cooley 

Elsa  Clark  PROSE   i. 

Alice  Cabell  Clopton 
Dorothy  Perry 


May  Palton 
Isabella  Mc- 
Laughlin 
Lucie  Clifton 

Jones 

MabelRobinson  Edith  Blaine 
Susette  Ryerson  Edith  Julia  Ballou 
Sarah  McCarthy  Gladys  Hodson 
Grace  Gates         Powell  Cotter 
Catharine  H.        Ernest  LaPrade 

Straker  Lillian  Alexander 

Frances  Morris-  Elizabeth  Lee 

sey  Edwin  Bishop 

Margaret  King  Rosalind  C.  Case 
Delia  Ellen  Sidney  Robinson 

Champlin  Louise  Tate 

Mildred  A.  Eunice  McGilvra 

Crane  Lisbeth  Harlan 

Winnie  Bobbitt  Gladys  Moch 
Paul  B.  Taylor  Donald  K.  Belt 
Gladys  Fulton     Elizabeth  Hirsh 
Winona  Mont-    Alice  Otis  Bird 

Eomery  Dorothy  Jacobs 

Philip  C.Gifford  Mary  d'A.  Lilienthal 
Florence  Knight  Inez  Pischel 
Ida  Pritchett        Brownie  Samsell 
Ramona  Laila     Emma  D.  Miller 

Janney  Mary  Claypoole 

Carolyn  Bulley  *ii'ix-/-c 

Ruth  A.  Wilson      CRAW  TNGS  i. 
Margaret  Hilde- Alice  T.  Gardin 
Lauren  Ford 


Maisie  Smith 
Frederick  Seiberling 
Marjorie  Connor 
Ella  E.  Preston 
Constance  Whitten 
Irving  A.  Nees 
John  A.  Helwig 
Hugh  Spencer 
Margaret  Wrong 
Joseph  Weber 


Ada  M.  Keigwin 
Anne  Furman  Gold- 
smith 
Grace  E.  R.  Meeker 
Dorothy  C.  King 
Margaret  Lantz  Daniell 
D.  Adams 
Mary  Cooper 
William  Schrufer 
Clinton  O.  Brown 
Marjorie  Sibyl  Heck 
W'arford  E.  Rowland 
Irene  Fuller 
Mary  McLaren        '' 


Enid  Goulding  Sinclair  Louise  McGilvra 
Edith  Park  Anna  Beatrice  Wether- 

Joseph  B.  Mazzano 
Robert  W.  Foulke 
Thalia  Graham 
Dorothy  Clapp 
Helen  Wilson  Barnes 
Frieda  Hug 
Anna  R.  Carolan 
Esther  Parker 
Elsa  Solano  Lopez 
Marguerite  Polleys 
Charlotte  B.  Arnold 
Gladys  A.  Lothrop 


Olive  Garrison 
Robert  Hammond 

Gibson 
Helen  E.  Price 
Eleanor  R.  Chapin 
Walter  Burton  Nourse 
John  W.  Love 
Mary  Klauder 
Angelica  Mumford 
Kaiherine  Dulcebella 

iiarbour 


Margaret  Ellen  Payne  Mildred  Hippee 


Dorothy  Mulford 

Riggs 
Charies  Roth 


Lucie  E.  B.  Mackenzie  William  R.  Lohse 
Louise  Converse  Harriet  Barney  Burt 

Elizabeth  Chase  Burt    C.  B.  Brown 


Gladvs  Blackmau 
Alice'  W.  Hinds 
Evelyn  Buchanan 
Alan  Adam? 
K.itharine  Gibson 
Eleanor  Keeler 


Slu.dy  -frorn  ^^■'.v^^Q^  "L  ife" 


Gertrude  Ford 
Natalie  D.  Wurts 
Ray  Randall 
Charles  Irish  Preston 
Kathryn  Hubbard 
Sibyl  Kent  Stone 
Dorothea  Gay 
Doris  Francklyn 
Gertrude  Louise 

Cannon 
Marguerite  Stuart 
Maud  Dudley  Shackle-  Harry  Van  Wald 


Muriel  Bush 
Twila  Agnes  Mc- 
Dowell 
Edwin  Doan 
Alma  Ellingson 
Cora  L.  Merrill 
Edna  Mead 
Gladys  M.  Adams 


ford 
Jacob  Schmucker 
Helen  Brainard 
Nannie  C.  Ban- 
Helen  Lombaert 

Scobey 
Julia  Ford  Fiebeger 
Emmeline  Bradshaw 
Lucy  Du  Bois  Potter 
Lucile  Woodling 
Alice  Pearl  von 

Blucher 
Margaret  Lyon  Smith    Florence  Louise 
Elizabeth  McCormick        Adams 
Josephine  Whitbeck 
Constance  Votey 
Eleanor  R.  Johnson 
Louisa  E.  Spear 
Mary  Yeula  Westcott 
Jessie  Lee  Riall 
Alleme  Langford 
Melicent  Eno  Huma- 

son 
Mary  C.  Tucker 
Willia  Nelson 


Alfred  P.  Merryman 
Frieda  Muriel  Harrison  Charles  L.  Benoist 
Blanche  Leeming 
VERSE  2.  Myrtle  Lenore  Salsig 

Harriet  W.  Gardiner 
Remson  Wisner  Hol- 

bert 
Ruth  Wilson 


Daisy  Errington  Bret- 
tell 
Bertie  Brown  Regester  Louis  Durant  Edwards 


Ruth  Heughes  Monica  Pearson  Tur- 

^L'^rjo^ie  Lachmund  ner 

Richard  de  Charms,  Jr.  Thomas  H.  Foley 


Mildred  Quiggle 
Ethel  M.  Dickson 
Joe  Pound 
Stanley  E.  Moodie 
Helen  A.  Lee 


Annie  Louise  Johnson  Frank  L.  Hayes 
*"'  '       '  Elizabeth  Flastman 


Beulah  Ridgeway 
Abigail  R.  Bailey 
Mora  Rivenburg 
Neill  C.  Wilson 
Virginia  Coryell 

Craven 
Shirley  Willis 
Helen  E.  Griffin 
Marjorie  Verschoyle  Belts 
Dorothy  Grace  Gibson 
Anne  Kress 
Rebecca  Laddis 
Mary  Blossom  Bloss 
Elizabeth  Swift  Brengle 
Abigail  E.  Jenner 


Helen  Spear 
Virginia  D.  Keeney 
Enza  Alton  Zeller 
John  H.  Sherman 
Olive  Moodie  Cooke 
Marie  Wennerberg 
Emily  Rose  Burt 
Alice  Moore 
Florence  Gardiner 
Marion  S.  Wilson 
Mollie  M.  Cussaart 
Bernice  Brown 
Alice  Bartholomew 
Elizabeth  Templeton 
Cunningham 


Margaret  Denniston 
W'alter  Winton 
Ivy  Varian  Walshe 
Cora  Call 
Martin  Janowitz 
Fordyce  L.  Perego 
Francis  Strong 


Julia  Halleck 
Eari  D.  Studley 
James  Barrett 
Walter  E.  Huntley 
Harry  B.  Lachman 
Muriel  C.  Evans 
Phoebe  Wilkinson 
Melville  Levey 
Rena  Kellner 
Marcia  Gardner 
Alex  Seffeirt 
Roy  L.  Hilton 
Mary  Pemberton 
Nourse 


Nellie  Foster-Comegys  Teresa  R.  Robbins 


Dorothy  Alice  Spear 
Gilbert  P.  Bogert 
Alfred  Redfield 
Edith  Hilles 
Jean  Fulton 
Marie  Elisa  Carbery 
Ruth  A.  Donnan 
GeneWeve  Morse 


Janet  Orr  Ewing 
Ellen  H.  Rogers 
Lionel  E   Drew 
Martha  E.  Fleck 
Stanislaus  E.  McNeill 
Phoebe  Hunter 
Helen  F.  Searighl 
George  A.  MacLean 
Elizabeth  D.  Keeler 
Katherine  M.  Keeler 
Harriet  Eager 
Herbert  W.  Landau 
Etta  Rowe 
Edward  A.  McAvoy 
Grace  W.  Trail 
Katherine  Callington 
Sidney  Edward  Dick- 
enson 


Duncan  G.  McGregor   Louise  Miller 


Valentine  Newton 

DRAWINGS  2. 
Cordner  H.  Smith 
Marguerite  Strathy 
M.  S.  Wyeth 
Carl  Lohse 


Isabel  Weaver 

John  W.  Overton 

Mary  E.  Ross 

Charlotte  St.  G. 
Nourse 

Katharine  Buchanan 

Kenneth  Stowell 

Ralph  E.  Koch 

Franklin  S.  White- 
house 

Roger  Taylor 

Mildred  Curran  Smith 

Helen  W.  Moore 

Marion  K.  Cobb 

Theodore  L.  Fitz- 
simons 

Katharine  Krouse 

PHOTOGRAPHS  i. 


'ANl.MAL  LIFE.    BV  JACKY  HAYNE,  AGE 


May  Thomas 
Marie  Atkinson  Edwin  E.  Arnold 

Edith  Kioger  Eleanor  Hobson 

Jeanette  McAlpin  Philip  S.  Ordway 

Margaret  Booiaem         Edwin  Shoemaker 

Richardson  Carlota  Glasgow 

Delphina  L.  Hammer   Oliver  Ritchie 
Marie  Fogarty 
Katherine  L.  Marvin 
Dorothy  Lincoln 
Madge  Pulsfurd 
Harold  Chapin 
Marguerite  VVilliams 
Christina  B.  Fisher 
Eleanor  Twining 
May  H.  Peabody 
lone  Casey 
Dorothy  Gardiner 


«9<>4i 


ST,     NirnniA'^    I  KA'U'E. 


955 


Katharine  A.  Poiter 
Paul  Wormscr 
Alice  du  Punt 

PHOTOGRAPHS  a. 

Florence  R,  T.  Smith 

Margaret  H.  Copcland 

Elizabeth  Morrison 

I,oui&a  M.  Waterman 

Phyllis  Mudie  Cooke 

"  ^se  Caroline  Huff 
icicn  Carr 

Emma  K.  Woods 

Anne  Constance 
Nour>c 

Emily  L.  Storcr 

Hugo  Graf 

Ruin  Boy  den 

Harold  K.  Schoff 

Catherine  L>elano 

Alice  L.  Couscns 

Rachel  Rude 

Miriam  Phinney 

Fanny  J.  Walton 

P.  J.  Voung 

Alice  Garland 

Rosalie  Day 
Horace  J.  Simons 

Chauncey  Reed 

Karl  M.  Mann 

Ediih  Kou^toD 
Louis  Retmer 

C.  W.  Ireland 
Hanford  Macnlder 
William  W.  Mardcn 
Zelie  M.  Ebersiadt 
Sidney  V.  Kimball 
Fred  Stedman 
Mary  L   Fletcher 
Fanny  Winans 
Anne  Marguerite  Dye 
Louis  Bamngton 
Ellen  du  Pont 
Marjoric  Newell 
Walter  lircttell 
Elizabeth  Love  God- 
win 
Mary  Letitia  Fyffe 
Mary  A.   Woods 
Rnl)crt  S.  Plan 
Carl  Cannon  Click 
Marion  D.  Freeman 
Kathleen  Gould 
Dorothy  Williams 
Margaret  Ruckcr 
Frances  Richardson 
Alice  L.  McCrcadv 


'A   HEADING   FOR   AUGUST.  BY    MARION    OSGOOD   CHAPIN,    AGE    13. 


Winihrop  Brown,  Jr. 
Carl  Lawrence 
Freda  Messervy 
Alice  Septon 
Heyliger  dc  Windt 
J^>nathan  W.  French 
Rudolph  Lcding 
Mary  S.  Cumming 
Helen  Hudson 
Ludie  Freeland 
Pcrcival  W.  Whittlcsey 
EHsabeth  H.  Rice 
Alan  Ginty 
Rutherford  Piatt 
Albert  Wcstcott 
S^'dney  B.  Lamb 
Kenneth  Payne 

PUZZLES  1. 

Roger  Williams 
Walter  A.  Halkett 
Henry  Morgan  Brooks 
Christine  Graham 
Ida  Berry 

ComeUa  N.  Walker 
Grctchen  Neuburger 
Katharine  King 
Ellsworth  Weeks 
Phyllis  Nanson 
Marguerite  Halloucll 


Mary  Dunbar 
Volant  V.  Ballard 


mounted  or  unmounted,    no  blue  prints  or   negatives. 
^Wn^:.•^^L"„deU  Subject.  "  Distance." 

Drawing.  India  mk,  very  black  writing-ink,  or  wash 
(not  color),  interior  or  exterior.  Two  subjects,  "A 
Nature  Study  "  and  "  A  Heading  or  Tailpiece  for  Oc- 
tolier." 

Puzzle.  .Vny  sort,  but  must  be  accompanied  by  the 
answer  in  full,  and  must  be  indorsed. 

Puzzle-answers.  Best,  neatest,  and  most  complete 
set  of  answers  to  puzzles  in  this  issue  of  St.  Nicholas. 
Must  he  indorsed. 

Wild  Animal  or  Bird  Photograph.     To  encourage 
the  pursuing  of  game  with  a  camera  instead  of  a  gun. 
For  the  best  piiotograph  of  a  wild  animal 
or  bird  taken  in  its  nalu- 
ral    home :    First 
Prize,  five  dollars 
and   League  gold 
badge.         Second 
Prize,    three   dol- 
lars   and    League 
gold  badge.  Third 
Prize,         League 
gold   badge. 


PUZZLES  2. 

Louise  Fiur 
Ele-^iior  F.  Rcifsnider 
Mary  Salmon 
Margaret  F.  Upton 
E.  Adelaide  Hahn 
Harry  W.  Hazard,  Jr. 
John  Diinton  Keycs 
Arthur  M.  Reed 
Katheritic  Neumann 
Donald  Ferguson 
Marguenle  Hill 
Leah  Gardner 
Elizabeth  .McMillan 
Hoyt  D.  Perr>' 


'A   HEADING   FOR  AUGUST.         BY   MARGARET   KEENE,    ACE   7. 


PRIZE  COMPETITION  NO.  59. 

(5rt  notice,  page  gjj.) 

The  St.  Nicholas  League  awards  gold  and  silver 
badges  each  month  for  the  best  poems,  stories,  draw- 
ings, photogr.iphs,  puzzles,  and  puzzle-answers.  Also 
cash  prizes  of  five  dollars  each  to  gold-badge  winners 
who  shall  again  win  first  place.  (This  docs  not  include 
winners  of  "  Wildanimal  Photograph"  prizes.) 

Competition  No.  59  will  close  August  20  (for  foreign 
members  August  25).  The  awards  will  be  announced 
and  prize  contributions 
published  in  St.  Nicho. 
i..\s  for  November. 

Verse.  To  contain  not 
more  than  twenty-four 
lines.  Title:  to  contain 
the  word  "  Pleasure  "  or 
"  Ple.-isures." 

Prose.  .Article  or  story 
of  not  more  than  four  hun- 
dred words  :  "My  Favorite 
Episode  in  American  His- 
tory." 

Photograph.  .\ny  size, 
mterior        or         exterior,       "a  tailpiece  for  aigust.' 


RULES. 

Any  reader  of  .St.  Nicholas,  whether  a  subscriber 
or  not,  is  entitled  to  League  membership,  and  a  League 
badge  and  leaflet,  which  will  be  sent  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, 
7oho  must  ie  convinced  beyond  doubt  that  the  contribution 
is  not  copied,  but  wholly  the  work  and  idea  of  the  sender. 
If  prose,  the  number  of  words  should  also  be  added. 
These  things  must  not  be 
on  a  separate  sheet,  but  on 
the  contribution  itself — if  a 
manuscript,  on  the  upper 
margin  ;  if  a  picture,  on  the 
margin  or  bach.  Write  or 
draw  on  one  side  of  the  pa- 
per only.  A  contributor 
may  send  but  one  contri- 
bution a  month— not  one 
of  each  kind,  but  one  only. 
.\ddress : 

The  St.  Nicholas  League, 

BY  kele.n  mcg.  noyes,  aue  II.        Uuiou  Square,  New  York. 


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' 

BOOKS   AND    READING. 


AFTER    VACATION 

DAYS.  Ije 


'  Back  to  school !  "  will 
the  watchword  before 
many  days  now.  And  there  is  one  delightful 
reflection  in  beginning  a  school  year.  It  is  like 
turning  over  a  new  leaf  in  your  copy-book.  The 
old  blots  and  the  regretted  failures  are  hidden. 
You  can  dream  of  doing  better,  and,  what  is 
better,  you  can  make  the  dream  come  true. 
The  easiest  way  of  getting  through  the  school- 
day  is  to  interest  yourself  in  the  work ;  and  by 
securing  a  good  understanding  of  the  work  from 
the  first,  the  interest  will  be  awakened. 

Then  let  your  reading  be  a  handmaid  to  your 
school-work  ;  this  will  aid  in  both. 

PUTTING  BOOKS       This  is  not  a  paragraph 
IN  THEIR  PROPER  advising    you    to    replace 
PLACE.  books    upon    the    shelves 

when  you  are  through  with  them.  Of  course 
all  book-lovers  treat  their  friends  in  print  with 
due  respect,  and  do  not  leave  them  to  be  buf- 
feted by  a  cruel  world. 

No.  This  is  merely  a  reminder  that  books 
come  second,  and  realities  take  first  place.  The 
critics  find  no  better  praise  for  Shakspere  than 
to  say  that  he  writes  of  everything  as  if  in  its  pres- 
ence. If  he  speaks  of  a  deer,  he  notes  what  he  has 
seen,  not  what  books  tell.  Even  if  all  the  book- 
learningof  hisage  had  been  packed  into  hisbrain, 
it  would  not  have  given  him  the  facts  he  tells  us. 
Ruskin  quotes  Shakspere's  description  of  a  se- 
vere storm  at  sea,  and  Ruskin's  eye  for  nature 
was  nearly  as  good  as  Shakspere's  own.  If  a 
horse  is  described,  the  Elizabethan  genius  sees 
with  the  eye  of  a  horse-lover  and  the  enthusi- 
asm of  a  stable-lad  who  knows  nothing  but 
horses ;  and  so  of  flowers,  kings,  ships,  armor, 
—  what  you  will. 

Look  at  the  world  first,  and  then  into  your 
books  to  see  if  others  have  seen  what  you  see. 
All  over  this  broad  land 
of  ours,  that  extends  from 
the  neighborhood  of  Robinson  Crusoe's  island 
to  the  great  chain  of  lakes  about  which  Park- 


IN   THE   LIBRARY. 


Irving's  Knickerbockers  to  the  land  whence 
Bret  Harte  derived  material  for  his  poetical 
dreams  of  impossible  gold-hunters,  there  are 
great  libraries  with  shelves  weighted  with  de- 
lightful volumes. 

At  one  time  it  was  thought  that  libraries 
were  for  the  traditional  scholar  —  a  pale,  be- 
spectacled creature  who  never  dreamed  of  such 
a  glorious  triumph  as  a  three-base  hit  or  a 
home  run.  But  to-day  it  is  the  most  practical 
men  who  are  making  the  greatest  use  of  libra- 
ries; and  in  the  libraries  you  meet  the  boys  and 
girls  who  are  most  interested  in  the  living  world 
about  them. 

There  are  advantages  in  doing  your  more 
serious  work  in  the  reading-rooms  of  the  libra- 
ries. If  you  see  a  reference  or  quotation,  you 
can  at  once  verify  it ;  if  there  is  further  infor- 
mation to  be  found  in  another  book,  you  may 
send  for  it. 

Perhaps  even  in  these  enlightened  days  there 
are  boys  and  girls  who  need  to  be  told  that  in 
the  "  reference  room  "  you  are  allowed  to  con- 
sult many  books  at  a  time.  Of  course  they  are 
not  taken  from  the  library.  In  studying  a  his- 
tory lesson,  for  example,  it  is  an  excellent  prac- 
tice to  compare  the  accounts  of  different  wri- 
ters —  especially  those  of  earlier  times  with  those 
of  our  modem  historians. 

THE  VALUE  IN  A  What  is  the  quahty,  or 
STORY.  what  are  the  qualities,  that 

make  a  good  story  ?  By  this  is  not  meant 
merely  a  story  that  is  readable,  but  one  that  has 
real  worth.  It  seems  to  be  agreed  that  Na- 
thaniel Hawthorne's  short  stories  possess  true 
worth.  AVho  will  send  us  a  little  essay  upon  one 
of  these  master-works,  telling  what  it  is  that 
renders  them  superior  to  the  3,404,823,981 
stories  that  have  appeared  since  ?  (We  do  not 
guarantee  the  accuracy  of  these  figures,  as  we 
may  have  missed  one  or  two  in  the  count!) 
Again,  as  we  said  last  month,  we  ofter  no  prizes 
for  such  an  essay  except  the  conditional  promise 
to  print  an  essay  (not  over  300  words)  meriting 


man  has  told  such  true  romances  as  may  well 

excite  the  rivalry  of  novelists,  from  the  home  of    the  attention  of  our  readers. 

956 


BOOKS    AND    READING. 


957 


Address  in  care  of  this  department,  as  there 
are  so  many  inclosures  coming  to  the  League 
that  your  little  essay  might  go  astray  and  be 
considered  a  misfit  composition  intended  for 
some  other  department. 

Remember,  the  question  is,  "  What  makes 
the  worth  of  a  story  ?  "  and  the  suggestion  is  to 
take  one  of  Hawthorne's  for  an  example. 
WHEN  YOU  ARE        Now  and  then   in  your 
PUZZLED.         reading    you    are    sure  to 
come  upon  sentences  that  will   seem  blind  to 
you.     It  is  an  excellent  plan  to  read  these  aloud 
slowly.     Often  the  ear  -will  help  to  catch  the 
meaning.     But  if  a  writer  presents  a  continual 
succession    of    problems    and    enigmas,    the 
chances  are  that  he  is  not  worth  your  time,  or 
else  that  you  have  not  yet  come  to  the  proper 
age  for  reading  his  work.     Browning,  for  in- 
stance, is  certainly  great ;  but  he  is  also,  as  cer- 
tainly, hard  to  follow.     Until  you  can  forgive 
his  style  for  the  sake  of  his  thought,  it  will  be 
better  to  keep  to  other  poets. 
FINE  PRINT  AND        It  may  be  a  fancy,  but  is 
COARSE.  jt  not  true  that  a  passage 

read  in  small  print  is  likely  to  be  taken  in  more 
as  one  complete  thing  ?  The  same  words  will 
convey  a  more  scattered  impression  if  in  large 
print. 

Try  reading  a  few  verses  of  the  Bible  in  this 
way,  first  in  large  and  then  in  small  lettering. 
BOOKS  THAT  ARE  It  would  be  interesting 
RELATED.  to  get  together  a  complete 
"family"  of  books;  that  is,  to  collect  a  set  of 
books  each  of  which  was  written  because  of 
another.  You  might,  for  instance,  take  some 
noted  story  —  our  old  friend  "Robinson  Cru- 
soe "  will  do  as  a  very  well  knowTi  example. 
Then  try  to  secure  the  book  about  "  Alexan- 
der Selkirk." 

Then  take  the  "Swiss  Family  Robinson," 
then  Jules  Verne's  storj'  that  tells  the  subse- 
quent fortunes  of  the  young  Robinsons,  and 
after  that  take  some  other  of  the  numerous 
volumes  owing  their  life  to  these  famous  fore- 
runners. 

You  need  not  own  these  books,  of  course,  but 
it  might  make  an  interesting  reading  course. 

"  The  Sleeping  Beauty  "  legend  also  would 
lead  you  pleasantly  through  a  number  of  re- 
lated books  and  stories. 


THE  NUCLEUS  OF  EvERV  young  reader  and 
YOUR  LIBRARY,  book-lover  should  own  a 
few  choice,  permanent  books,  that  are  kept  as 
his  choicest.  Have  them  in  as  good  a  form 
as  you  can  aflford,  and  cherish  them  as  your 
treasury  of  literature.  Be  careful  to  admit  to 
this  highest  rank  only  the  most  deserving  of 
all  the  books  you  read. 

IN  RESPONSE  TO  MaRGARET       DoUGLAS 

OUR  REQUEST.     GoRDON,  wishing  to  name  a 
few  newer  books  than  the  old  favorites,  sends  a 
pleasant  letter  highly  recommending  these : 
The  Princesses'  Story-Book  > 


The  Queens'  Story-Book 

Tlie  Arkansas  Bear  } 

The  Hollow  Tree     > 

Scottish  Fairy  Tales 

Border  Ballads 

With  the  King  at  Oxford 

Historical  Tales  from  Sliakspere 


G.  L.  Comme 


A.  B.  Paine 

George  Douglas 
Graham  Tomson 
A.  J.  Church 
Quiller-Couch 
Stories  of  the  Days  of  King  .Arthur        C.  //.  Hanson 

The  historical  element  is  a  little  too  frequent 

in  this  list,  but  we  hope  it  may  be  useful  to 

readers  seeking  for  novelty  in  their  mental  food. 

A  LETTER  ^^'^    print    this    friendly 

FROM  A  FOREIGN  letter  from  a  lovcr  of  Frcnch 

CORRESPONDENT,  jitg^^ture: 

MO.NTREUX,  SWITZERI..^XD. 

Dear  St.  Nichoi..'\s  :  Every  month  I  follow  the 
Books  and  Reading  department  with  the  greatest  in- 
terest. But  I  have  noticed  thai,  although  many  very 
excellent  English  and  American  books  are  recommended 
by  you,  only  infrequent  mention  is  made  of  foreign  ones. 
I  think  this  is  a  pity ;  surely  girls  and  boys  learning  or 
already  knowing  French  would  like  to  know  of  some 
of  that  country's  latest  publications. 

The  French  are  a  gay  and  lively  people,  and  much  of 
their  brightness  is  to  be  found  in  the  pages  of  their  books, 
watching  the  opportunity  to  make  the  reader  laugh. 
T.ike,  for  example,  a  volume  that  has  just  appeared,  "  L' 
.•\pprentissage  de  Valerie,"  by  J.  M.  Mermin,  published 
by  Paul  Paclot  &  Cie,  4  Rue  Cassette,  Paris.  It  is  full 
of  amusing  anecdotes  and  many  irresistibly  funny  con- 
versations, while  the  affection  of  Valerie  for  her  young 
brother  Aubin  is  quite  touching. 

It  is  a  fresh,  good  book,  fit  for  girls  and  boys  of  every 
age,  and  no  more  agreeable  reading  could  be  found. 

You  would  confer  a  great  favor  on  me  by  printing  this 
letter,  as  I  should  very  much  like  to  hear  the  opinions 
of  other  League  members  on  the  subject.  I  could  quote 
dozens  of  other  charming  French  works,  but  fearing  to 
make  my  letter  too  long,  I  will  end. 

Thanking  you  for  the  pleasure  the  magazine  always 
affords  me. 

Sincerely  yours,  ' 

Ivy  Varia.m  Walshe. 


THE    LETTER-BOX. 


Berkeley,  Cai.. 

My  dear  St.  Nicholas  :  I  enjoy  your  numbers  a 
great  deal,  and  at  the  end  of  the  year  I  am  going  to 
have  them  all  bound  together. 

We  live  on  a  very  large  place.  We  have  two  dogs  to 
play  with,  and  their  names  are  Beo  and  Bevis.  We 
have  a  donkey  of  our  own,  named  Barry,  and  my  sister 
Helen  has  a  dear  little  canary-bird  named  Sweetheart 
(this  is  her  own  name  for  it)  and  he  sings  beautifully. 
We  do  not  go  to  school,  as  the  nearest  one  is  too  far 
away  from  our  home,  but  James  (my  brother)  and  I 
have  lessons  from  Aunt  Lida,  and  we  like  them  very 
much.  W^e  also  take  German  lessons.  We  go  down 
to  Pacific  Grove  every  summer,  and  we  have  a  house  of 


one  side,  with  seeds  in  them  for  the  birds,  which  she 
calls  the  "Bird  Dining-room."     Your  loving  reader, 
Margaret  Macrum. 
P.  S.      My  mother  and  uncles  took  you  when  they 
were  small. 


EiNDRED  ViKO,  Kingston. 
Dear  St.  Nicholas  :  Before  I  got  you  I  was  always 
saying  that  I  wished  I  had  something  to  read,  but  for 
the  three  years  I  don't  believe  I  have  said  it  more  than 
twice,  as  I  have  always  had  you  to  read  by  a  grate  fire 
in  winter,  or  out  on  the  lawn  with  big  cushions  piled 
high  at  my  back  in  summer.    I  very  seldom  write  to  any 


our  own  there,  which  is  most  delightful.  I  enjoy  the 
Letter-box  in  your  numbers  and  I  thought  you  might 
like  to  have  a  letter  from  me. 

Your  loving  reader, 

John  Garber  Palache  (age  lo). 


Oakmont,  Pa. 

Dear  St.  Nicholas  :  I  have  taken  you  for  about 
three  years  and  like  you  very  much.  I  have  two  sisters 
and  two  brothers.  Our  grandfather  has  four  ponies. 
One  he  got  when  I  was  a  baby,  and  it  is  snow  white, 
and  twenty-five  years  old.  We  say  that  he  is  white 
from  old  age. 

Grandmother  has  bo.xes  that  are  long  and  thin,  tilted 


one,  unless  it  is  some  one  who  has  made  me  feel  happy. 
So  you  must  know  you  are  one.     Your  beloved  reader, 

Claire  Robinson. 


Logan,  Pa. 
Dear  St.   Nicholas:   I  have  a  sister  Bessie,  and  a 
kitten  named  Midnight,  so   I  was  interested  in   "  The 
Weighing"  in  your  March  number. 

Yours,         Sydney  L.  Wright  (age  7). 


Lack  of  space  has  prevented  our  printing  interesting 
little  letters  from  Helen  Spafford,  Alice  L.  Sigourney, 
Blanche  Hogeland,  Philip  P.  Patout,  Martha  Ellis 
White,  Richard  T.  Lyford,  Charles  I.  Hodges,  Kath- 
erine  Keith,  and  Graham  BuUen. 


958 


'^ 


ANSWERS  TO  PUZZLES  IN  THE  JULY   NUMBER. 


Historical  Acrostic.  Third  row,  Charlcm-igne.  i.  Bacon. 
7  .Mohanimetl.  3.  Plato.  4.  Rurik.  5.  Sulla.  6.  Spenser.  7. 
Homer.     8.   Drake.     9.   .Magellan.     10.   Dante.     11.  Alexander. 

Zigzag.  Independence  Day.  Cross-words:  i.  Ignition.  2. 
Uncommon.  3.  Undulate.  4.  Greeting.  5.  Accepted.  6.  Acci- 
dent. 7.  Ignorant.  8.  Pilchard.  9.  Trencher.  10.  Suspense. 
II.  Starched.  la.  Generous.  13.  Medicine.  14.  Bachelor.  15. 
Youthful. 

Charade.     Ark-hives,  archives. 

DouBLR  Acrostic  Primals,  Shakespeare:  finals,  Winter's 
Tale.  Cross-words :  i.  Shadow.  a.  Haggai.  5.  Action.  4. 
Knight.  5.  Entire.  6.  Slower.  7.  Petals.  8.  Enhst.  9.  Africa. 
10.   Recoil.     II.   Europe. 

Triple  Cross-word  E.n*igma.  Fourth  of  July,  Independence, 
6re-crackers. 


Doi'BLE  Cross-word  Enigma.     Fourth  of  July,  fire-crackers. 

A  Magic  Square,  i.  Fourth  of  July.  2.  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence. 3.  Washington.  4.  Lee.  5.  John  Adams.  6.  Jcffer. 
son.     7.  John  Hancock. 

Tra.s'SformationS.  I.  Shirk,  shark.  2.  Barge,  badge.  3. 
Gross,  grass.  4.  Niter,  Niger.  5.  Beach,  bench.  6.  Baton, 
bacon.  7.  Spore,  spire.  8.  Party,  patty.  9.  Ardor,  armor.  10. 
Wager,  wafer.     11.  Caddy,  candy.     12.  Snore,  .snare. 

Charade.     E-inan-sip-a-shun,  Emancipation. 

Connected  Squares.     I.     i.    Abash.     2.    Briny. 
4.   Sneer.     5.     Hydra.     II.     I.    Altar.     3.     Large.      3, 
Agile.     5.     Relet.     III.     I.    Abater.     2.    Berate.     3. 
Taglia.     5.    Ethiop.     6.    Retaps.     IV.     i.    Aster.     2. 
Togas.     4.  En.lct.     5.  Rests.     V.    i.  Sales.  2.  Abate. 
4.   Ether.     5.  Seers. 


3.    Aimed. 

Trail.  4. 
Aright.  4. 
Shone.     3. 

3.  Lathe. 


To  our  Puzzlers:  Answers,  to  be  acknowledged  in  the  magazine,  must  be  received  not  later  than  the  islh  of  each  month,  and 
should  be  addressed  to  St.  Nichoi-as  Kiddle-box,  care  of  The  Cknturv  Co.,  33  East  Seventeenth  St.,  New  York  City. 

Answers  to  all  the  Puzzles  in  the  May  Nu.mber  were  received,  before  May  15th,  from  Joe  Carl.ada —  "Argument"  —  Grace 
Harcn  — Ernest  A.  Marx  —  "Chuck  "  —  St.  Giibriel's  Chapter  — Allil  .ind  Adi  — Elcinor  Wyman  — Tyler  H.  Bliss —.Adeline  L.  F. 
Pepper  —  Ruth  Bartlctt-  Elizabeth  D.  Lord — Jo  and  1  — Nessie  and  Freddie  —  Russell  S.  Reynolds — Constance  and  Esther  —  Marion 
Thomas  —  John  P.  Phillips  —  Gwynelh  Pennethome. 

Answers  to  Puzzles  in  the  May  Number  were  received,  before  May  15th,  from  Franklin  T.  Rice,  1  —  Frank  Hanford,  i  —  Harry 
Kahn,  5  —  Anna  S.  Foster,  1  —  Howard  Smith,  5  —  Nan  and  Caryl,  5  —  Delia  Irene  Patterson,  3  —  C.  C.  and  F.  H.  Anthony,  7  —  Frcde- 
rica  Rutherford  Mead  and  LawTence  Myers  Mead,  5  —  Edna  Moses,  i  —  Harriet  Bingamon,  5 —  Myrtle  Aldcrson,  6  —  "  Johnnie  Bear,"  7 

—  Alice  A.  Bristow,  i  —  Eunice  Shafcr,  1  —  .Mary  E.  Askew,  i  —  Dode  Van  Eaton,  6  —  Anna  B.  Richardson,  i  —  Allan  S.  Richardson,  i 

—  Laura  E.  Jones,  6 — Miriam  Ellinwood,  i. 


CONCEALED   WORD-SQUARE. 

(One  word  is  concealed  in  each  couplet.) 

1.  May  Orrin  run  a  race  with  me? 
Vou  must  lie  umpire,  all  agree. 

2.  I  think  Kab  over^hot  the  mark  ; 
Last  night  he  practised  after  dark. 

3.  Now  please  yoke  Sam  and  me  together ; 
.\  barefoot  race  \vill  save  shoe-leather. 

4.  Just  see  how  Royer  tears  around  ; 

Of  course  they  Ml  send  him  off  the  ground. 
5-  Come,  Sam,  and  rest ;  such  skill  you  've  shown, 
The  highest  prize  you  '11  surely  own. 

HELEN   A.    SIBLEY. 

ZIGZAG  PUZZLE. 

(Silver  Bitd^,  St.  Nicholas  League  Competition.) 

Each  of  the  words  described  contains  seven  letters. 
When  rightly  guessed  and  \vritten  one  below  another, 
begin  with  the  second  letter  of  the  first  word,  the  thinl 
letter  of  the  second  word,  the  second  letter  of  the  third 
word,  the  first  letter  of  the  fourth,  and  so  on,  ending 
with  the  first  letter  of  the  last  word.  The  fourth,  fifth, 
sixth,  and  seventh  letters  of  all  the  words  are  not  used  in 
the  zigzag. 

Cross-words:  i.  Pertaining  to  the  Turks.  2.  To 
accomplish.  3.  Middle.  4.  A  fabulous  animal  having 
one  horn.  5.  The  wind-flower.  6.  .\tmospheric  con- 
ditions of  a  place.  7.  To  try.  8.  Fervent.  9.  .\  build- 
ing. 10.  Supremacy.  1 1.  To  state  in  detail.  12.  One, 
not  a  professional,  with  a  taste  for  art.     13.  To  draw. 


14.  To  burn.  15.  A  neck  of  land  joining  two  larger 
bodies  of  Land.  16.  Slanting.  17.  To  trouble.  18. 
Glowing  with  flame.  19.  Kindly.  20.  Apparent.  21. 
Conciseness.  22.  Liquids  produced  by  distilling.  23.  .-V 
figure  having  eight  sides.     24.  An  umpire. 

The  zigzag  will  spell  the  official  name  of  our  country. 
liENJAMI.N    L.    MILLER. 

WORD-SQUARE. 

I.  .\  DAN'CE.  2.  .V  constellation.  3.  .\  measure  of 
capacity  in  the  metric  system.  4.  The  scriptures  of  the 
Mohammedans.     5.   Concerning. 

DAVID  B.  VA.v  DYCK  (League  Member). 

ZIGZAG   AND   FINAL  ACROSTIC. 

I    ...    3 


Cross-\vords  :  I.  .\  magistrate.  2.  .\  rude  picture 
used  by  the  Indians  as  a  symbol.  3.  The  joint  on 
which  a  door  turns.  4.  To  go  into.  5.  Perforations. 
6.   Proportion.     7.  To  long  for  earnestly. 

From  I  to  2,  an  American  statesman  ;  from  3  to  4,  the 
surname  of  an  .-\merican  author. 

MARGARET  ABBOTT  (League  Member.) 


960 


THE    RIDDLE-BOX. 


NUMEKICAX    ENIGMA. 

I  AM  composed  of  ninety-eight  letters,  and  form  a 
quotation  from  a  poem  by  Celia  Thaxter. 

My  50-18-2-40-27-12-65  is  an  insect  that  Dickens 
has  written  about.  My  64-84-1 7-96-5-8-82  IO-4-31- 
98-73  are  brilliant  green  beetles  used  for  raising  blisters. 
My  57-24-65  is  no  sluggard.  My  37-13-90-43-6-58- 
10-47-15  is  called  the  swallow  among  insects.  My  60- 
9-53-22-72-65  is  an  insect  allied  to  the  grasshopper. 
My  16-9-51-39-48-56  is  an  insect  that  stings  severely. 
My  30-9-56-34-65-6  97-22-46  is  the  Colorado  beetle. 
My  84-61-3-93-29-74-49-11-63-25  is  a  large  American 
moth.  My  1-75-81-21-63-44-65-9  is  a  common  and 
troublesome  insect.  My  80-91-89-23-59-64  are  trouble- 
some to  plants.  My  69-70-38-26-88-74-9-77-92-55-14 
is  a  jumping  insect.  My  S9-6-32-20-1 5-97-48-78  is  a 
model  of  industry.  My  94-52-62-71-36-95  is  the  sev- 
enteen-year locust.  My  43-7-66-56  is  an  annoying  little 
insect.  My  85-22-76-87  is  a  stage  of  insect  life.  My 
40-75-62-6-75-35  is  the  case  in  which  the  silkworm  lies. 
My  28-50-82-67-20-63-1-75-42  10-19-S6  is  a  parasitic 
fly.  My  4-83-68-93-97-22-33  is  an  insect  whose  "  house 
is  on  fire."  My  79-41-45-54  is  an  artificial  sheet  of  ice, 
under  cover,  used  for  skatmg.  ELSIE  LOCKE. 

NOVEL.    ACROSTIC. 

{Gold Badge,  St.  Nicholas  League  Competition.) 


5 

10 


•     3 
II     2 


Cross-words:  i.  A  nautical  instrument.  2.  An  ima- 
ginary circle  on  the  earth's  surface.  3.  Energy.  4.  One 
who  trifles.  5.  An  inscription  on  a  monument.  6.  To 
speak  briefly  of.  7.  Unmannerly.  8.  To  marry.  9. 
Perusing. 

The  initial  letters,  reading  downward,  will  spell  the 
name  of  a  month  ;  the  letters  represented  by  the  figures 
from  I  to  12  will  spell  somethmg  that  was  adopted  on 
the  seventeenth  day  of  that  month. 

GEORGE   \V.    H.\LKETT. 

CHANGED  HEADS. 

{Gold  Badge,  St.  Nicholas  League  Competition.) 

Make  one  word  into  another  by  changing  the  first 
letter.  E.xample  ;  Change  an  indentation  into  to  utter. 
Answer,  b-ay,  s-ay. 

I.  Change  a  pronoun  to  a  conjunction.  2.  Change 
base  to  at  present.  3.  Change  a  period  of  time  into 
high-priced.  4.  Change  spoke  to  a  sudden  attack.  5. 
Change  was  seated  to  consume.  6.  Change  part  of  the 
head  to  strife.  7.  Change  a  bag  to  a  masculine  nick- 
name. 8.  Change  a  respectful  title  to  atmosphere.  9. 
■Change   an  opening   to  a  covering  for  the  head.     10. 


Change  to  free  from  to  a  young  animal.  II.  Change 
pertaining  to  the  air  to  pertaining  to  a  series.  12.  Change 
a  masculine  nickname  to  a  grain.  13.  Change  seized  to 
a  cozy  corner. 

The  initials  of  the  words  before  they  are  changed  will 
spell  the  name  of  an  American  famous  in  war;  the  ini- 
tials of  the  words  after  they  are  changed  will  spell  the 
name  of  an  American  famous  in  politics. 

AGNES   R.    LANE. 

CHARADE. 

Dear  is  my  first  to  childhood's  heart, 

Again,  its  dire  confusion  ; 
A  /ast  of  •m'j  first  would  pain  impart  — 

Pray,  pardon  the  allusion. 
When  skies  are  dark  and  winds  and  waves  are  high, 
With  joy  we  on  my  total's  skill  rely. 

HELEN  a.    SIBLEY. 

DOUBLE   DIAGONAL. 

All  the  words  described  contain  the  same  number  of 
letters.  When  rightly  guessed  and  written  one  below 
another,  the  diagonals,  from  the  upper  left-hand  letter  to 
the  lower  right-hand  letter,  and  from  the  lower  left-hand 
letter  to  the  upper  right-hand  letter,  will  each  spell  a 
famous  statesman. 

Cross-words:  i.  Traveled.  2.  Indorse.  3.  To 
ally.  4.  Moving  with  a  dragging  step.  5.  Incessant. 
6.  Trembling  with  cold.  7.  Essays.  8.  A  stop  in  an 
organ,  having  a  flute-like  sound.     9.   Comrade. 

TYLER  H.  BLISS  (League  Member). 

NOVEL   ZIGZAG. 

{Silver  Badge,  St.  Nicholas  League  Competition.) 

I 3 

■*■•■■*• 

•  ■     *      ■       ■      *f      •       ■ 

#  #      •       •       • 
* 

# # 

-      ^      '       ■  ■      j(.      ■ 

•  ■#•■#■• 

#  #      ■       •       • 

#■•*■• 
■*■■•■*■ 

2 4 

The  first  four  words  and  the  last  four  words  read  from 
left  to  right;   the  others  read  from  right  to  left. 

Cross-words:  i.  Untaught.  2.  Not  searched  for. 
3.  Not  religious.  4.  To  recall.  5.  The  shell  of  a  turtle. 
6.  Facility.  7.  Casting  out.  8.  Entangled.  9. 
Achieved.  10.  Fiendish.  II.  Adorned.  12.  Outward. 
13.   Approved.    14.   -A  spisy  seed.    15.   A  Turkish  saber. 

From  I  to  2,  a  day  celebrated  in  the  United  States ; 
from  3  to  4,  a  famous  American  who  died  on  that  day. 

charline  s.  smith. 


THE    DE    VINNE    PRESS,  NEW    YORK. 


I21-I  22. 


■    LADY    BETTY    DELM£   AND    HER   CHILDREN. 
{From  a  mezzolint  by    Valentine  Green  of  the  painting  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds.) 


ST.   NICHOLAS. 


Vol.  XXXI. 


Sin'TE-MBER,    1904. 


No.  II. 


BRITTAXV.     11 11-:    I..\XI)    ()!•    THK    SARDINE. 


By  PicGH   M.  Smith. 


Of  the  host  of  -\merican  boys  and  girls  who 
•ire  fond  of  the  well-flavored  and  wholesome 
l-'rench  sardine,  proljably  very  few  know  any- 
tiiing  about  the  country  where  the  sardine  is 
caught  and  prepared,  or  realize  how  many  thou- 
sands of  boys  and  girls  depend  on  this  little  fish 
for  their  very  e.\istence. 

The  fish  is  named  from  the  island  of  Sar- 
dinia, in  the  Mediterranean  Sea,  about  whose 
shores  it  abounds.  But  the  word  "sardine"  has 
no  local  meaning  now,  for  it  is  applied  to  va- 
rious kinds  of  small  herring-like  fishes  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  world.  '  Maine,  Florida,  Cali- 
fornia, Chile,  Japan,  India,  New  Zealand,  and 
France  have  their  own  peculiar  sardines.  The 
most  important  and  best  known  sardine,  how- 
ever, is  that  of  France.  It  is  found  from  Swe- 
den to  the  Madeira  Islands,  but  is  most  abun- 
dant on  the  south  coast  of  England  (where  it 
is  called  pilchard),  in  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  and 
in  the  Mediterranean.  The  little  fish  is  espe- 
cially numerous  and  important  on  the  shores 
of  the  ancient  French  province  of  Brittanv, 
and  it  is  of  the  sardine  industry  of  that  country 
thai  I  wish  to  give  you  a  few  glimpses  in 
tiiis  article. 

Brittany  occupies  the  northwest  corner  of 
France,  but  will  not  be  found  on  most  modern 
maps,  as  it  ceased  its  separate  existence  as  a 
province  more  than  a  centurj'  ago.  It  is  a 
wild  and  rugged  country,  inhabited  by  a  hardy 

Copyright,  1904,  by  The  Centukv  Co. 
963 


people  who  for  many  centuries  have  followed 

the  sea,  and   tci-dav  arc   more  extensively   en- 


.-\11  rights  reserved. 


964 


BRITTAXV,    THE    I.AM)    (iF    THE    SARIiIXE. 


[Sept. 


A    SARDINE    FISHEK.MAN  S    HOME. 


gaged  in  fishing  than  in  any  other  occupation  or  ing  ;  and  their  wives  and  daughters  are  obHged 
than  any  other  people  of  France.  The  world-  to  work  in  the  sardine  factories  to  help  support 
wide  reputation  of  the  canned  French  sardine  themselves.  The  boys,  when  quite  young,  go 
is  due  to  the  fine  qual- 
ity of  the  fish  itself  and 
to  the  care  and  skill  em- 
ployed in  catching  and 
preserving  it.  While  the 
cod,  mackerel,  herring, 
tunny,  lobster,  oyster, 
and  manv  other  animals 
are  taken,  the  tiny  sar- 
dine is  the  leading  pro- 
duct, and  contributes 
more  than  any  other 
kind  of  sea  food  to  the 
fishery  wealth  of  France. 
The  men  who  follow 
the  sardine  fishery  have 
no  other  occupation. 
Most  of  them  are  very 
poor,  and,  as  they  usu- 
ally have  large  families, 
they  must  fish  actively 
in  order  to  make  a  liv- 


DAUI/.HTERS    OF    A    BRETON    MSHEKMAN 


1904.1 


BKiTTANV,    rm;    ianh  m'    inr.   sakdink. 


965 


out  in  the  fishing-boats  with  their  fathers  or 
elder  brothers,  and  soon  learn  the  ways  of  the 
sardines  ami  the  methods  of  fishitig ;  while  the 
girls  accompany  their  mothers  into  the  facto- 
ries, and,  witli  their  nimble  fingers  and  quick 
wits,  readily  learn  how  to  cure  and  pack  the 
little  fisli.  Even  when  fishing  is  at  its  best,  the 
fisherman's  lot  is  unhappy ;  but  when  the 
sardines  fail  to  visit  the  coast  in  their  usual 
numbers,  as  in  1902,  the  condition  of  the 
fishing  people  is  serious,  ami  they  sometimes 
are   brought    dangerouslv   near    to   starvation. 


whatever  may  contril)ute  to  the  .success  of  the 
day's  fishing. 

The  nets  are  niaile  of  very  fine  twine,  and 
are  stained  witii  a  blue  dye  to  preserve  them 
and  to  render  them  le.ss  conspicuous  when  in 
the  water.  They  float  in  an  upright  position 
behind  the  boat,  being  supported  by  corks  and 
weighted  with  stones. 

When  the  lioats  are  among  the  fi.sh,  the  cap- 
tain casts  bait  in  such  a  way  as  to  induce  the 
schools  of  fish  to  run  into  the  net  in  their  haste 
to  reach  the  food.     This  method  of  fishing  with 


OFF    10    IHE    FI&HINti-GKOUNDS   IN    THE    EAKLV    MOhNlNG. 


The  schools  of  sardines  are  found  on  the 
coast  during  almost  the  entire  year,  but  are 
caught  in  largest  numbers  during  summer  and 
fall.  While  the  fishing  is  going  on  there  is  a 
continuous  round  of  activity  in  the  coast  towns. 

The  boats,  each  with  a  crew  of  five  or  si.\ 
men,  sail  early  in  the  morning,  often  before  day- 
break, in  order  to  be  on  the  grounds  when  the 
fish  begin  to  feed.  When  the  fish  arc  found, 
the  nets  are  put  in  the  water,  the  captain  of  the 
boat  stands  in  the  stern  to  give  directions  and 
to  throw  the  bait,  and  the  men  are  alert  to  do 


bait  is  used  to  a  slight  e.vtent  in  other  countries 
and  other  fisheries,  but  is  nowhere  so  exten- 
sively carried  on  as  in  the  sardine  fishery  of 
Brittany, 

The  bait  is  cliieilv  the  sahed  eggs  of  the 
codfish,  and  comes  in  barrels  from  Xorwav, 
Newfoundland,  and  America,  It  is  a  curious 
fact  that  the  sardine  fishery  of  France  should 
be  dependent  on  the  cod  fishery  of  distant  lands, 
and  that  a  scarcity  of  cod  eggs  in  those  coun- 
tries means  a  poor  sardine  catch  and  a  serious 
time   for  the  fishermen.     As  the  bait  is  expen- 


966 


BRITTAXV,     THE    LAND    OF    THE    SARDINE. 


[Sept. 


sive,  it  is  usu.illy  diluted  or  eked  out  with  pea- 
nut meal. 

When  the  hungry  fish  rush  against  the  nets, 
their  heads  go  through  the  meshes  before  they 
realize  that  there  is  an  obstruction,  and  when 
they  attempt  to  withdraw,  the  twine  has  slipped 
behind  their  gills  and  thev  are  caught  fast.  Nets 
with  fish  are  not  allowed  to  remain  long  in  the 
water,  but  are  hauled  quickly,  and  the  tiny  fish 


kets,  carry  them  ashore,  and  deliver  them  to  the 
factories,  where  they  are  soon  put  through  the 
canning  processes. 

The  fish  are  first  beheaded,  then  soaked  in 
strong  brine,  and  spread  on  wire  grills  to  drain 
and  dry ;  they  are  next  cooked  in  boiling 
oil,  packed  in  cans  of  various  sizes  and  shapes, 
covered  with  oil,  and  finally  sealed  and  placed 
in  a  retort,  where,  under  great  pressure   and 


A    BRETON    PEASANT  S    STONE   COlTAUE. 


are  shaken  or  picked  out  and  carefully  stored 
to  prevent  crushing  or  decay.  When  the  fish 
have  disappeared  or  the  boat  is  well  filled,  the 
sails  are  set  and  the  men  start  home,  each 
crew  striving  to  reach  port  first  in  order  to 
get  the  best  prices. 

After  the  captain  has  sold  the  catch  to  the 
highest  bidder  at  so  much  per  thousand  fish, 
the  men  count  their  fish  into  "small  wicker  bas- 


heat,  their  cooking  is  completed  and  their 
bones  softened. 

Of  the  hundred  sardine  canneries  now  oper- 
ated in  Brittany,  more  than  fifty  are  in  the  two 
towns  of  Concarneau  and  Douanenez  ;  but  the 
real  headquarters  of  the  industry  are  Nantes 
and  Bordeau.\,  where  are  the  companies  which 
own  or  lease  most  of  the  factories. 

Stone  is   cheaper  than  lumber  for  building 


I 


BklTTAW,      IIIK     lANI)    OF    TIIK    SARDIXK. 


967 


I  HE    VARD   l)K    A    SAKDINH    fACroKV,    SMOWlNCi    SAKDINt-S    DKVINC,    ON    l,Kl 


[Hirposes  in  Brittany,  so  that  the  sardine  fac-  closing  a   courtyard,  where   the    sardines  are 

tories,  as  well  as  the  dwellings  of  the  fisher-  dried  in  fair  weather.     From  fifty  to  three  or 

men,  are  nearly  always   constructed  of   solid  four  hundred  persons,  mostly  women  and  girls, 

masonry.    The  canneries  are  usually  large  low  are  employed  at  good  wages  in  each  factory. 
huiUIiriL'-i.  snrrcpiindfil   hv  a  wall  .ind  oftfU  in-  A  Brittanv  sardine  town  in  the  height  of  the 


A   liLSV    bCt.NE    I.\    Hit    LA.NNtKV. 


968 


BRITTANY,    THE    LAND    OF    THE    SARDINE. 


season  is  the  scene  of  great  activity,  and  affords 
the  foreign  visitor  sights  of  pecuhar  interest. 
As  soon  as  the  fishing-boats  are  seen  returning, 
crowds  begin  to  gather  on  the  quay ;  and  the 
factories  blow  whistles  or  ring  bells  to  summon 
their  women  and  girls,  who  are  seen  hurrying 
through  the  streets  in  their  odd,  picturesque 
costume — short  dark  skirts,  glistening  white 
linen  caps  and  collars,  and  clumsy  wooden 
shoes. 

As  the  boats  arrive  and  begin  to  discharge 
their  catch,    the   crowd    on    the   quay    is   in- 


creased by  thousands  of  fishermen  in  coarse 
blouses  and  fiat  cloth  caps,  with  trousers  rolled 
up  and  feet  bare  or  in  huge  wooden  shoes. 
Above  the  commingled  noise  of  waves  and 
tongues  is  heard  the  incessant  characteristic 
rattle  of  wooden  shoes  on  the  stony  pavements. 
As  the  boats  are  unloaded,  the  nets  are  hauled 
to  the  tops  of  the  tall  masts  to  dry  ;  the  dock 
gradually  becomes  deserted  ;  and  the  final  scene 
is  an  intricate  mass  of  boats  and  masts,  with  a 
maze  of  blue  netting  and  strung  corks  waving 
high  in  the  air  in  graceful  festoons. 


BACK    IN    FUKT    AND    DKYING    THE    NETS. 


PETER    PUFF-AND-BLOW. 


Up  rose  old  Peter  Pufif-and-Blow, 

And  puffed  and  blew  the  whole  night  long, 
Determined  to  let  people  know 

How  fresh  he  was,  how  stout  and  strong. 

But  though  he  was  so  strong  and  stout, 


He  could  not  puff  the  night-light  out 
That  swayed  and  flickered  in  my  room. 

The  goblin  shadows  leaped  and  fell ; 

The  night-light,  flickering  to  and  fro. 
Burned  on  till  dawn  and  served  me  well, 


And  bawled  and  blustered  through  the  gloom,  In  spite  of  Peter  Puft-and-Blow. 


fE  L!)irrERENCE 

BY  ALiy  THORW. 


In  an  a|)ron  of  blue  by  the  sand-licap 
she  sits, 
And  she  makes  the  most  svonderful 
pies. 
She  follows  the  brooklet  that  sings  as  it  runs, 

All  under  the  sweet  summer  skies. 
.\nd  mischievous  breezes  will  linger,  I  ween, 

To  ruffle  each  wild  yellow  curl. 
She  croons  a  soft   song  while  the    hours  slip 
along: 
She  's  a  glad  little  morning  girl. 


Hut  when  three    o'clock   comes,  then    behold 
what  a  change ! 
She  wears  a  white  frock,  ruffled  too. 
She  walks  up  and  down  in  the  very  front  yard, 

.\nd  her  sli])j)ers  are  shining  and  new. 
In    a    prim    golden    row,   not    a    hair  out    of 
place, 


Can  be  seen  every  round 

shining  curl. 

Oh,    long   seems    the    time,  & 

and  so  slow  drags  the  ir 

day  :  *i^^ 

She  's    a  sad    little  after-  ^f\ 

noon  girl.  *** 

\  -i 


969 


THIRTEEN. 


By  Lucy  Foster. 


You  see,  there  's  Dai.sy  and  Geraldine 
And  me,  —  I  'm  May, — and  we  're  each 

thirteen ; 
And  Daisy  and  Geraldine  both  say 
That  now  we  are  too  grown  up  to  play 
With  dolls  any  more!    And  I  think  it  's  mean- 
It  's  perfectly  horrid  to  be  thirteen! 

They  're  glad  to  give  up  their  dolls.      But  I 

Can't  see  any  possible  reason  why 

We  should  n't  plav  with  them  one  more  year- 


(.\nd  my  Angelina  is  such  a  dear! ) 
Well,  at  last  I  know  what  people  mean 
When  they  say  it  's  unlucky  to  be  thirteen. 

When  I  told  mama,  she  shook  her  head 
And  kissed  me  tenderly  as  she  said : 
■  You  're  standing  with  very  reluctant  feet, 
Dear  May,  where  the  brook  and  river  meet ; 
And  yet,  perhaps,  't  is  a  golden  mean 
'Twixt  childhood  and  girlhood  when  one  's 
thirteen." 


"KiniN    IJAIZIX" 

OR 
FROM    S1IARK-1U)V     Ic )    MKRCHANT    I'RIXCl 


Bv  Gknsai   Murai. 


"  Kibutt  Daiziit " 
(li'fiii/kiest  Man) 


Chapter  V. 


lllli    HATTLE   OF   STOXK   MISSILES — THK 

monkeys'  panic. 


*'  ll'a  ni'zrj  me-  A'uzo ' ' 
(Begun  in  the  July  number.)  {Shark-Boy) 

\\\\\  not  bring  hack  tlio  sln'p  which  was  wrecked 
nor  the  men  who  were  lost,  so  I  think  it  would 
be  better  for  you  to  keep  yourself  alive  and 
atone  for  your  loss  by  succeeding  with  your 

Having  stayed  that  night  at  an  inn,  IJiin-  next  venture.     But  without  money  you  can't 

kichi   hastened   on  his  w'ay  along  the  Hania-  even  go  to  a  doctor,  so  allow  me — " 

Kaido,  or  the  "  shore  road."     When  he  came  Taking  out  five  pieces  of  silver  and  putting 

to  a  lonely  spot  in  the  road,  he  saw  a  man  in  them  in  the  hand  of  the  sailor,  he  continued, 

the  distance,  scantily  clad  and  apparently  mak-  kindly  and  soothingly,  "  With  these  get  a  doctor 

ing  preparations  for  hanging  himself.     On  ran  at  once,  my  man." 

Bunkichi  and  caught  hold  of  the  man,  asking  The  captain,  as  he  looked  into  Bunkichi's  face 

him  at  the  same  time  why  he  had  come  to  such  with  an  expression  almost  of  worship,  said:  "You 

a  pass  as  to  attempt  an  act  of  suicide.  are  the  kindest  man  I  ever  came  across  in  spite 

"  I    am   a   certain    Kichidayu,  a   native    of  of  your  apparent  youthfulness.     As  long  as  I 

Sakai  in   Izumi   Province,  and  a  sailor,"    an-  live  I  shall  not  forget  you,  and  some  day,  per- 

swered  the  man,  while  tears  stood  in  his  eyes  haps,  I  may  have  an  opportunity  to  repay  you 

as  he  spoke.      "  I  was  in  charge  of  a  ship  of  one  for  your  goodness  to  me." 

thousand  kokii*  and  on  my  voyage  to  Yedo  While  he  said   this,  tears    rushed   from   his 

with  a  cargo  of  sake^  my  boat  was  wrecked  off  eyes— for  he  was  overcome  by  a  sense  of  grati- 

tiiis  coast,  and  the  crew  of  eighteen  all  told,  as  tude  and  joy. 

well  as  the  whole  of  the  cargo,  were  lost.    For-  Bunkichi,  having  taken  off  his  haon,\  said  to 

tunately  I  was  waslied  up  on  the  coast  while  I  the  man  :  "  Put  this  on,  though   it  is  not  suffi- 

was  holding  fast  to  a  piece  of  board,  but  hav-  cicnt  to  protect  you,  and  come  on  with  me  to 

ing  been  terribly  knocked  about,  I  can  hardly  my  next  stopping-place."     Thougli  the  seaman 

drag  myself  along.     Besides,  the  loss  of  the  was  reluctant  to  accept  so  generous  an  offer, 

ship,  the  cargo  as  well  as  the  crew,  overpowers  Bunkichi  urged  him,  and,  giving  him  a  helping 

me  with  such  a  sense  of  disgrace  and  wretched-  hand,  led  the  man  along  to  the  next  village, 

ness  that  I  thought  I  would  rather  die  than  go  where  they  found  an  inn  into  which  they  went, 

back  to  my  native  town."  There  a  suit  of  clothes  was  purchased  for  the 

Bunkiclii,  while  he  was  listening  to  the  sad  sailor,  and  the  lad  recounted  the  story  of  the 

account  of  the  wreck,  surveyed  the  man  from  wreck  to  the  old  woman,  the  keeper  of  the  inn, 

head    to    foot,    and    perceived    many    severe  and  asked  her  to  send  for  a  doctor,  who,  on 

bruises,  which  — with  his  frank  and  honest  man-  arriving,  did  whatever  he  could    for  the  poor 

ner  of  speaking — seemed  to  prove  the  truth  of  man. 

his  words.  Bunkichi,  who  thought  it  likely  he  might  be 

"  I  quite  sympathize  with  you  in  your  mis-  of  more  service  to  the  sailor,  said,  in  answer 

fortune,"  said  he,  "  but,  my  man,  your  dying  to  his  question :    "  I  have  no  "house  of  my  own, 

•  Forty  thousand  gallons.         t  A  kind  of  Japanese  liquor.          t  ■'^^  Japanese  upper  garment. 

971 


"  KIBUN    DAIZIN 


[Sept. 


but  you  will  find  me  if  you  ask  for  one  Bun- 
kichi  at  the  Daikokuya,  a  cloth  establishment 
at  Kumano.  You,  being  a  sailor,  are  sure  to 
find  any  amount  of  work  if  vou  go  there  ;  so 
please  look  me  up.      I  am  in  a  hurry ;  I  can- 


"GIVING    HIM    A    HELPING    HAND,    BINKILHI    I.ED    THE    MAN 
ALONG    TO    THE    NEXT    VILLAGE." 

not  stop  here  longer.  On  my  way  back  from 
Osaka  I  shall  call  upon  you.  If  you  are  well 
before  then,  you  had  better  go  to  Kumano 
and  wait  for  me  there." 

Thus  kindly  holding  out  hopes  of  helping 
him  in  the  future,  he  gave  the  old  woman  a 
sum  of  money  for  the  nursing  of  the  sailor,  and 
hurried  on  his  way. 

Going  on  from  one  hotel  to  another,  and  re- 
solving to  lose  no  time,  Bunkichi  at  last  arrived 
in  the  city  of  Osaka.  As  he  had  received  a  let- 
ter of  introduction  from  his  master  to  a  certain 


wholesale  merchant  of  the  city,  with  whom  the 
Daikokuya  had  dealings,  he  went  to  this  mer- 
chant and  asked  for  the  articles  he  had  been 
commissioned  to  buy.  The  head  of  the  house, 
acquainted  with  the  waiiizamc  affair  by  the  let- 
ter, did  everything  in  his  power  to  assist  Bun- 
kichi, and  the  transaction  went  off  smoothly  and 
quickly.  After  he  had  sent  off  the  fishing-tackle 
to  Kumano  on  board  a  ship,  he  spent  a  few 
days  in  sight-seeing  as  well  as  in  observing  the 
ways  in  which  big  merchants  carried  on  their 
trade.  Having  thus  spent  four  or  five  days 
here,  Bunkichi  once  more  took  the  same  road 
home,  and  on  the  way  inquired  at  the  inn  after 
the  captain  whom  he  had  left  there.  To  his 
great  joy,  the  sailor  was  well  on  the  way  to  re- 
covery ;  so  he  gave  the  man  some  more  money 
for  his  further  needs,  and  hastened  on  to 
Kumano-Ura.  having  promised  to  meet  him 
again    there. 

On  the  day  following  that  on  which  he  iiad 
taken  leave  of  the  sailor,  he  came  to  the  hilly 
roads  near  Kumano.  This  part  of  the  country 
was  noted  then,  as  it  is  to-day,  for  the  produc- 
tion of  oranges.  All  over  the  hills  he  saw 
orange-trees  in  abundance,  and  there,  strange 
enough,  he  heard  a  great  noise  of  screaming 
and  chattering.  He  hastened  his  steps  in  the 
direction  of  the  noise.  Lo,  and  behold!  Hun- 
dreds of  monkeys,  uncountable,  had  drawn  a 
circle  around  three  men  whom  they  w-ere  pelt- 
ing with  a  shower  of  stones.  'I'hese  wretched 
men,  as  they  were  apparently  unable  to  with- 
stand the  stone  missiles  of  the  monkeys,  had 
pulled  their  overcoats,  or  liaori,  over  their 
heads  and  were  crouching  under  an  orange- 
bush,  apparently  in  despair,  for  they  were  doing 
nothing  but  crying  for  help. 

As  the  animals  apparently  thought  it  great 
fun,  they  kept  on  showering  stones  as  quickly 
as  they  could  pick  them  up,  and  it  seemed 
probable  that  the  three  men  would  have  fallen 
victims  to  the  monkeys  but  for  Bunkichi. 
When  he  .saw  how  things  were  going,  quick  as 
thought  he  picked  up  a  lot  of  pebbles  from  the 
wayside  and  filled  both  his  spacious  sleeves  and 
his  front  pocket  as  well.  Thus  well  armed,  on 
he  rushed  to  the  monkey  army  and  pulled  out 
of  his  pocket  the  pebbles  one  after  another, 
throwing  them  at  the  frisky  creatures.  The  mon- 


>9°4-l 


OR    FROM    SHARK-nOV    TO    MERCHANT    PRINCE. 


973 


keys,  as  thev  screamed  ami  chattered,  at  once 
confronteil  the  lad,  hut  perceiving  him  pull  out 
stones  from  his  breast,  they  tried  to  do  the  same. 
Hut  of  course  they  had  no  pockets  with  stones 
in  them,  while  Bunkichi  fired  his  missiles  thick 
and  fast.  The  beasts  in  their  rage  began  to 
pull  off  the  hair  from  their  breasts  and  throw 
it  from  them,  while  their  monkey-chatter  grew 
louder  and  louder  as  their  pain  increased. 

Bunkichi,  who  could  not  suppress  his  laugh- 
ter, contrived,  as  it  were,  to  discharge  the  mis- 
siles from  his  breast  while  actually  bringing  out 
the  stones  from  his  sleeves.  As  the  monkeys 
drew  closer  to  him,  still  jmlling  off  their  hair, 
the  three  men  were  now  given  time  to  breathe. 
They  at  once  came  out  from  their  hiding-place, 
and,  scolding  the  monkeys,  began  to  pick 
up  stones  to  help  in  their  turn  their  deliverer 
in  his  stand  against  them. 

The  youth  cried  out,  as  he  quickly  percc-ived 
tlieir  action  :  "  No,  no!  Don't //VvC' ?// stones  1 
If  any  of  you  have  the  instruments  for  striking 
tire,  set  fire  as  cjuickly  as  you  can  to  the  dry 
grass."  The  men  did  as  they  were  told,  and  as 
the  wind  fanned  the  fire  the  smoke  and  flames 
soon  spread  over  the  ground.  'I'he  army  of 
monkeys,  thinking  the  day  was  lost,  set  up  a 
great  chatter  and,  jimipiiig  from  tree  to  tree, 
disappeared. 

The  men,  now  recovered  from  their  fright, 
and  having  put  out  the  fire,  thanked  Bunkichi 
and  said  :  "  We  are  most  grateful  to  you,  sir.  If 
you  had  not  come  we  should  almost  to  a  cer- 
tainty have  been  stoned  to  ileath  by  the  mon- 
keys." 

"It  was  a  narrow  escaj)e,  was  n't  it?"  re- 
marked Bunkichi.  "  But  I  am  curious  to  know 
—did  you  not  throw  stones  at  them  first?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  inen,  with  animated  ex- 
pression. 

lUmkichi  could  not  helj)  smiling  as  he  thought 
of  how  they  had  acted,  and  said:  "You  know 
monkeys  are  foolish  animals  and  try  to  imitate 
whatever  others  do." 

"  You  seem  to  know  everything,"  said  the 
men,  who  were  much  struck  by  his  wisdom. 
"  But  where  have  you  come  from?  " 

"I  live  at  Kumano,"  was  the  reply,  "but  was 
brought  up  at  Kada-no-Ura,  so  I  know  about 
monkeys,  as  we  have  plenty  of  them  there." 


Then  the  leading  one  of  the  three,  makmg  a 
polite  bow,  urged  Bunkichi,  saying :  "  I  am  the 
owner  of  this  orange  farm,  and  my  home  is  not 
far  from  here.     Please  come  to  my  house." 

On  the  way  thither  he  asked  the  boy  his 
name  and  where  his  home  was. 

"  I  am  one  Bunkichi  in  the  establishment 
called  the  Daikokuya,  at  Kunuino,"  was  his 
frank  answer. 

The  host,  having  well  observed  the  lad's  face, 
said:  "Ah,  that  's  why  I  thought  I  had  seen 
you  somewhere.  Then  you  are  that  widely 
famed  Mr.  Wanizame-Kozo — the  Shark-Boy! 
The  people  in  this  neighborhood  owe  you 
a  great  debt  of  gratituiie,  because  all  the  fruits 
produced  here  in  this  part,  oranges  among  other 
things,  when  they  are  sent  either  to  Tokio  or 
to  Osaka,  must  first  be  sent  to  Kumano-Ura 
to  be  shipped  to  those  cities.  But  ever  since 
the  appearance  of  that  monster  in  the  harbor 
all  the  shipping  trade  had  come  entirely  to  a 
standstill,  atid  we  had  to  send  our  fruits  to  other 
ports  by  a  roundabout  way,  which  was  a  great 
nuisance  to  us  ;  whereas,  owing  to  your  wisdom 
and  courage,  we  can  now  send  our  cargo  to 
Kumano  as  we  did  before." 

After  a  pleasant  visit  of  an  hour  or  two,  I'.un- 
kichi  was  about  to  start.  The  host  stopped  him 
for  a  minute  and  brought  out  a  little  packet  of 
money,  and,  placing  it  before  him,  said  :  "This 
trifle  is  only  a  token  of  my  gratitude  to  you. 
Please  take  it."  Looking  at  it  from  the  outside, 
it  certainly  seemed  no  trifle ;  but  the  lad  firmly 
but  politely  declined  to  accept  it,  saying:  "You 
have  no  need  to  thank  me."  And  he  would 
not  take  it,  in  spite  of  the  host's  earnest 
entreaty.  At  last  he  said:  "  I  don't  wish  to 
receive  any  recompense  from  you  ;  however,  I 
have  one  favor  to  ask  if  you  will  grant  it  me. 
I  am  thinking  of  trading  on  my  own  account 
before  long  in  various  articles,  and  if  I  come 
here  some  day  to  buv  oranges,  will  you  deal 
with  me?  " 

"  You  make  a  very  modest  recpiest,"  answered 
the  host  with  ready  assent.  "  I  will  supply  you 
with  a  cargo  as  cheaply  as  possible  at  any  mo- 
ment you  send  me  the  order,  and  as  to  the  pay- 
ment, I  shall  be  in  no  hurry  for  it,  and  you  may 
pay  me  whenever  you  like.  1  can  supply  you 
with  thirty  thousand  bo.xes  of  oranges  from  my 


974 


KAIBUN    DAIZIN 


[Sept. 


own  farm  ;  and  there  are  many  more  farmers  in  Now  Kichidayu's  devotion  to  Bunkichi  was 

the  neighborhood  who  will  be   glad  to  supply  so  great  that  he  was  ready  to  sacrifice  his  own 

you  if  I  let  them  know  that  you  are  the  Wani-  life  for  his  sake  if  occasion  should  arise.     "  I 

zame-Kozo.      At  least  I  can  assure  you  I  will  admire  your  determination   immensely,  and  as 

fill  your  order,  however  large  it  may  be."  I  owe  my  life  to  you,  you  may  count   on  me 

With  many  thanks  Bunkichi  took  his  leave,  for  any  assistance  in  my  power,"  said  the  sailor 

and  he  was  back  in  the  Daikokuya  that  even-  to  the  boy  one  day. 


mg. 


Chapter   VI. 

THE  GREAT  HAZARD— A  PERILOUS  VOYAGE. 


The  cargo  of  fishing-tackle  which  had  been 
sent  from  Osaka  had  already  arrived  there  and 
was  awaiting  his  return,  so  Bunkichi  took  his 


Bunkichi  rejoiced  on  hearing  this  and  said, 
laughingly,  "  When  the  time  comes  in  which  I 
shall  make  my  fortune,  such  property  as  the 
Daikokuya  possesses  I  will  create  in  ten  days." 


Four  years  had  passed,  during  which  time 
Bunkichi  had  done  well  in  his  business,  trading 
goods  to  the  fishing  villages  round  about  Ku-  in  various  articles,  and  a  portion  of  his  profit 
mano  for  sale.  The  people  vied  with  one  an-  he  now  and  then  distributed  among  the  poor 
other  in  buying  them,  on  ac- 
count of  their  being  sold  by 
Mr.  Shark-Boy.  Owing  to 
the  price  of  tackle  being 
much  higher  then  than  at 
other  times,  as  a  result  of 
the  scarcity  of  the  supply, 
he  made  such  a  good  sale 
that  the  profit  doubled  the 
cost  of  his  outlay. 

Taking  care  not  to  waste 
the  money  thus  obtained,  he 
ne.\t  opened  a  trade  in  or- 
anges, buying  them  at  a 
cheap  rate  from  the  owner 
of  the  orange  farm  and  re- 
tailing them  at  Kumano 
when  the  market  value  was 
high.  By  this  means  he 
made  another  good  profit ; 
still  he  stayed  on  in  the 
Daikokuva  as  his  temporarv 
home, and  applied  himself  to 
business.  Thus  by  the  end 
of  the  next  year  he  had  saved 
several  times  the  amount 
of  his  original  capital. 

Meanwhile  Kichidayu,  the  sailor  to  whom 
he  had  given  kind  help,  came  to  him  after  he 
had  completely  recovered.  Bunkichi  asked  the 
master  of  the  Daikokuya  to  employ  him.  He 
consented,  and  committed  to  him  the  manage- 
ment of  a  big  ship  in  the  capacity  of  captain. 


'HUNDREDS    OF    MONKEVS    HAD    DRAWN   A    CIRCLE   AROUND  THREE 
MEN  WHOM  THEY  WERE  PELTING  WITH  A  SHOWER  OF  STONES." 

people  in  the  district.  He  was  now  eighteen 
years  of  age.  It  was  the  autumn  of  the  year, 
and  from  the  beginning  of  the  month  of  Octo- 
ber a  westerly  wind  had  been  blowing  many 
days.  As  a  consequence,  the  shipping  trade  at 
Kumano-Ura  was  entirely  stopped.  Vet  a 
cargo  of  oranges  bound  from  Kii  Province  for 
Yedo*  was  accumulating  at  Kumano-Ura  and 
began  to  rot  away  on  account  of  the  warm 
climate    of    the    province.     From    Yedo    had 


*  The  old  name  of  the  great  Japanese  city  now  called  Tokio. 


OR    IROM     SllAKK-l;iiV    TO     MKkCllANr     rRINCK. 


975 


been  received  vain  messages  by  the  hikiaku,  or 
running  postmen,  urging  them  to  send  up  the 
oranges,  the  necessary  fruit  for  the  Fiiigo  Mat- 
st/ri,  or  bellows  festival,  which  was  then  at  hand. 
Vet  the  sea  became  rougher  every  day  as  the 
wind  grew  stronger,  while  the  frowning  autumn 
sky  hung  overhead.  The  people  could  not  pos- 
sibly put  out  any  ship  nor  do  anything  but  stare 
and  grumble  at  the  rough  sea  and  the  lowering 
clouds. 

Everv  day  Bunkichi  went  down  to  the  sea- 
shore also,  and  lookeii  at  the  dark  sky  as  every 
one  else  did,  yet  he  alone  had  a  certain  expres- 
sion of  suppressed  joy  in  his  face.  The  others 
said,  "  We  hope  this  stormy  weather  will  come 
to  an  end  soon,"  while  he  answered,  "  I  hope 
it  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind." 

They  were  surprised  at  this  and  said,  "  Why, 
what  's  the  matter  with  you?  " 

"Who  can  tell?"  he  answered,  laughing. 
While  he  was  thus  engaged  in  bantering  talk, 
Kichidayu,  the  sailor,  came  to  look  at  the  con- 
dition of  the  sea.  On  seeing  him  the  lad 
beckoned  him  aside  by  a  tree  and  .said  :  "  Kichi- 
dayu San,  when  do  you  suppose  this  wind  will 
cease?  " 

"I  wish  it  would  stop  soon,"  he  answered, 
"  but  it  docs  n't  look  like  it,  I  fear." 

"  No ;  I  shall  be  greatly  disappointed  if  it 
stops  within  two  or  three  days." 

"  Well,  therms  not  much  chance  of  its  doing 
so,"  was  the  saiTor's  answer. 

"  That  's  good,"  the  boy  replied.  "  Before 
it  stops  what  do  you  say  to  having  a  sail  in  a 
boat  from  here  to  Yedo?  It  would  be  fine, 
would  n't  it?  " 

Kichidayu  stared  at  Bunkichi  in  astonish- 
ment and  said:  "Don't  joke,  please.  If  we 
were  to  put  out  a  boat  in  this  rough  sea,  it 
would  capsize  in  no  time." 

"  That  's  just  where  the  interest  lies. 
Would  n't  Kichidayu  San  like  to  try  it  for 
once?"  said  the  lad,  while  the  other  replied, 
laughing,  "  Don't  carry  your  joking  too  far!  " 

Bunkichi  became  serious.  "  Kichidayu  San, 
I  'm  not  joking.  If  it  was  an  east  or  a  north 
Mind  it  would  be  difficult,  of  course,  but  being 
a  west  wind,  it 's  a  fair  wind  toward  Yedo,  how- 
ever strong  it  may  be,  and  so  there  is  no  rea- 
son why  we  should  not  be  able  to  get  to  Yedo." 


Kichidayu,  who  thought  that  Bunkichi  was 
saying  rather  a  strange  thing,  answered :  "  If 
we  should  have  good  luck,  I  don't  say  that  it 's 
impossible ;  however,  I  do  say  it  could  only  be 
a  question  of  good  luck." 

"  That  's  just  where  the  interest  lies,"  said 
the  lad  again.  "  One  can  do  anything  that 
others  can  do  —  but  it 's  a  fine  thing  for  a  man 
to  go  to  a  place  when  others  can't  go.  Kichi- 
dayu San,  the  time  has  now  come  to  make  that 
fortune  of  money  of  which  I  told  you  once, 
because  in  Yedo  the  price  of  oranges,  which 
are  one  of  the  necessaries  at  the  bellows  festival, 
has  gone  up  ten  times  higher  than  at  other 
times,  on  account  of  the  scarcity  of  the  fruit. 
Here,  in  this  port,  where  the  oranges  have  ac- 
cumulated because  they  can  find  no  customers, 
the  price  has  gone  down  ten  times  lower  than  the 
rate  at  which  they  usually  sell.  So,  if  we  can 
buy  at  a  price  ten  times  lower  than  the  usual 
rate,  and  sell  at  a  price  ten  times  higher  than  the 
usual  rate,  naturally  a  hundred  rio  will  make 
ten  thousand  rio.  There  is  n't  likely  to  come 
such  a  good  chance  twice  in  a  lifetime.  As  to 
the  ship,  I  w'ill  ask  the  master  of  the  Daikokuya 
to  let  me  have  a  big  one,  and  if  he  does,  will 
you  captain  it  for  me?  I  intend  to  take  out  in 
it  a  large  cargo  of  oranges  for  Yedo  while  this 
bad  weather  prevails."  The  lad  thus  for  the 
first  time  revealed  his  ambitious  scheme. 

Kichidayu  folded  both  his  arms  on  his  breast 
in  contemplation.  Then,  as  he  lifted  his  head, 
he  said  :  "  I  will  make  the  attempt — yes,  even  to 
Yedo,  for  your  sake  ;  I  don't  grudge  even  mylife. 
\\'hat  if  my  ship  gets  wrecked?  I  don't  care. 
But  are  you  thinking  of  coming  on  board?  " 

"  Of  course ;  if  I  don't  go,  the  business  can't 
be  eflected,"  said  Bunkichi.  "  Trading  is  the 
same  as  a  battle.  In  one  of  the  battles  of  old, 
the  warrior  Yoshisune  set  us  an  example  by 
attacking  the  army  of  the  Hei  clan  in  the  prov- 
ince of  Shikoku  by  sending  out  the  war  vessels 
from  Daimotsuga-Ura  on  a  stormy  night.  If 
we  lose  courage  in  such  weather  as  this,  we 
cannot  possibly  accomplish  any  great  scheme. 
^\'e  shall  enter  upon  it  resolutely.  Should  we 
die,  let  us  die  together ;  but  if  I  gain  my  object 
I  will  handsomely  reward  you. 

"  We  shall  have  to  offer  stiilors  ten  times 
their  usual  pay," continued  Bunkichi ;  "you may 


'HE  DREW   HIS   SWORD   AND   RAN    TOWAKU   THE   MONSIEK."     (See  page  979.) 

976 


'  KI15UN    DAIZIN       OR    FROM    SMARK-BOY    TO    MERCHANT    PRINCE.  977 

then,  perhaps,  find  fellows  who  will  be  willing  her  face,  and  said:  "Does  Bunkichi  go  to  Yedo 

to  come.     Will  you  be  responsible  for  finding  in  this  storm?"  The  mother,  too,  longed  to  stop 

them?"    So  saying,  he  gave  the  captain  money  him,  but  could  not  well  interfere,  because  her 

for  the  purpose,  and  having  intrusted  the  mat-  husband  had  already  yielded  his  sanction  to 

ter  to  him,  at  once  went  home  to  the  Daiko-  the  boy's  scheme.     She  only  said,  loud  enough 

kuya  and  saw  the  master.  to    be    heard    by  both,  as    she    answered  her 

'Danna,"  said  he,  "among  your  ships  the  daughter:    "Yes,  Cho,  it  is  most  dangerous  to 

oldest  is  that   Tenjin-maru*  of  one  thousand  go  out  to  sea  in  this  great  wind  and  storm!" 

kokii  burthen,  is  it  not  ?  "  To  which  the  girl  responded  :  "  Yes,  mother  !  " 

The  master,  who  was  somewhat  startled  by  Bunkichi,  having  paid  the  price  of  the  Ten- 

the  abruptness  of  the  question,  said,  "  Yes,  she  jin-maru  to  his  master,  went  to  the  wholesale 

is  getting  to  be  an  old  vessel  now  and  I  am  stores  which   were    best    known    to   him    and 

thinking  of  breaking  her  up."  bought  up  their  oranges.     The  merchants,  as 

"  Will  you  sell  her  to  me?  "  they  were  sore  oppressed  by  the  rotting  of  the 

To   which   the    master   answered,  "If  you  fruit, were  in  the  state  of  "panting  blue  breath," 

want  her,  I  don't  mind  making  you  a  present  of  as  they  say.    Bunkichi,  in  a  somewhat  oflfhand 

her;   but  what  use  will  you  put  her  to?  "  manner, said  to  one  of  them  ;    "  Do  the  oranges 

'  I  'm  thinking  of  taking  a  cargo  of  oranges  rot  every  day?  " 

to  Yedo,"  was  the  lad's  reply.  "  Yes,  every  day  we  are  much  troubled  about 

"  When  the  bad  weather  is  over,  I  suppose,"  it ;  they  rot  away  continually.    Already  half  of 

said  the  master.  the  stock  we  have  is  spoiled  ;   if  it  goes  on  at 

"  No ;  while  this  stormy  weather  is  prevail-  this  rate,  within  another  ten  days  our  whole 

ing,"  was  the  reply.     The  master  was  startled,  stock  will  be  lost." 

but,  gazing  on  the  boy  for  a  moment,  merely  Whereupon  the  lad  said :  "  Are   you  really 

remarked:  "  What  an  extraordinary  idea! "  prepared   to  sell  them  at  whatever  price  you 

After  a  little  hesitation,  Bunkichi  drew  nearer  can  get  for  them?  " 
to  the  master.    "  Pray,  master,  sell  her  to  me,"  "  Oh,  yes,  gladly  ;  for  how  much  better  would 
said  he  ;  "I  am  again  going  out  on  a  trading  it  be  to  sell  even  at  a  loss  than  to  pay  for  throw- 
battle."  ing  the  rotten  stuff  away  ! " 

Then  the  master  understood  his  real  intention  To  which  Bunkichi  answered:    "If  that  is 

and  said  :  "  Well,  if  you  are   so  minded,  you  the  case,  I  will  buy  from  you  at  sixteen  nwii 

may  not  be  afraid  of  this  storm  ;  but  the  Ten-  per  bo.\  as  much  stock  as  you  have." 

jin-maru  is  in  any  case  a  dangerous  ship  for  this  The  merchant  was  rather  taken  aback  at  the 

weather,  so  I  will  lend  you  one  which  is  more  reply,  and  said,  "  Is  n't  that  too  cheap?  " 

seaworthy."  "  But  if  they  rot  away,  you  will  get  nothing. 

"  No,  no,  thank  you,  sir  ;  I  have  no  wish  to  I  am  not  over-keen  to  buy,"  said  the  lad,  coldly  ; 

borrow,"  replied  the  lad.   "This  undertaking  is  "so  if  you  don't  wish  to  sell,  we  need  not  have 

a  matter  of  fate.     If  I  am  wrecked  on  the  way  any  further  talk." 

out  I  cannot  give  your  ship  back  again ;   so  I  "  Just   wait   a   minute,"   and    the   merchant 

shall  not  borrow  things  of  others,  for  I  wish  to  stayed  the  lad  as  he  was  about  to  leave.  "  I  will 

do  everything  with  my  own  capital."  sell  at  sixteen  nion  a  box  if  they  are  for  you, 

The  master  knew  the  boy's  nature  and  made  and  if  you  will  buy  up  my  whole  stock." 

no  further  objection,  but  said:  "Very  well,  I  "Yes,  the   whole  lot,"  said   Bunkichi.     "I 

will  .sell  it  to  you.     You  will  surely  succeed,  will  buy   as  many  thousand   boxes  as   I  can 

Come  back  again  laden  with  treasure  !  "  put  into  a  large  ship."     Thus  he  bought  up 

Chocho,  the  master's  daughter,  who  was  now  the  whole  stock  of  that  store  and  then  went  on 

sixteen  years  of  age,  overheard  the  conversation  to  another,  buying  up  the  whole  stock  of  each 

between  the  two  and  was  much  surprised,  and  at  a  very  low  price.     Then  he  sent  a  man  to 

expressed  her  anxiety  as  well  as  her  sorrow  in  the    orange    farm    and    colle(5ted   some   more. 

*  A  Japanese  junk. 
Vol..  X.XXr.-i2?. 


9/5 


KIBUN    DAIZIN 


[Sept. 


Having  procured  a  large  stock,  he  put  it  all  on 
board  the  Tenjin-mani  so  that,  albeit  the  ship 
was  one  of  a  thousand  koku  burthen,  its  keel 
sank  deep  into  the  water. 

Chapter    VII. 

THE    SEA-GIANT    APPEARS. 

As  Captain  Kichidayu  sought  for  sailors 
by  holding  out  to  them  promise  of  wages  ten 
times  more  than  they  could  get  at  other  times, 
he  soon  picked  up  six  sturdy  fellows  who  did 
not  set  much  value  on  their  lives.  Thereupon 
he  reported  his  success  to  Bunkichi,  who  was 
rejoiced  over  it,  and  said  :  "  Then  all  things  are 
ready  now  ;  we  shall  settle  to  start  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  I  will  send  to  the  ship  ten  pieces 
of  long  square  timbers.  You  will  place  them 
crosswise  on  the  ship  and  attach  to  their  ends 
heavy  stones  so  that  she  will  not  upset  easily," 
he  continued,  with  his  usual  audacity  and  re- 
sourcefulness. "For  I  have  heard  that  the  ships 
which  sail  about  those  far-off  islands,  Hachijo 
and  Oshima,  and  the  like,  are  fitted  out  in  this 
way  and  sail  in  safety  even  in  heavy  storms. 
That  is  why  in  Yedo  they  call  those  island-ships 
'  sea-sparrows  ' :  the  weight  being  on  both  sides 
of  the  ship,  they  never  upset." 

Kichidayu  was  much  struck  by  his  keen  ob- 
servation, and  said  :  "  Truly,  it  did  n't  occur  to 
my  mind  tliat  those  ships  are  fitted  out  as  you 
say,  but  now  I  recollect  having  seen  them  off 
the  coast  of  Izu  Province.  As  they  are  thus 
constructed  they  never  capsize,  however  much 
they  are  washed  over  by  waves." 

"Now,  Kichidayu  San,"  Bunkichi  said,  "this 
ship  is  called  the  Tenj'in-mane,  but  our  going 
out  to  sea  this  time  may  mean  going  to  her 
destruction,  so  let  us  change  her  name  into 
Iiari-nmrii,  or  ghost-ship,  and  let  us  imagine 
ourselves  to  be  dead  men  by  putting  on  white 
clothes.  Thus  nothing  that  may  occur  can 
scare  the  crew;  for,  being  'dead'  men,  they 
can  have  no  fear  of  death." 

The  captain  agreed  with  him,  saying : 
"That  's  a  splendid  idea!" 

The  captain  returned  to  his  abode  in  high 
spirits  and  told  to  the  six  seamen  what  the  lad 
had  said,  and  they  all   readily  agreed  to  the 

*  The  purse  tied  round  the  neck  of 


plan,  and  were  so  stirred  by  the  lad's  courage, 
that  they  were  ready  to  face  any  dangers  or 
fears  that  might  come  to  them. 

Bunkichi  at  once  ordered  a  man  to  paint, 
on  the  sail  of  the  ship,  " lurei-maru"  in  large 
Chinese  characters,  and  at  the  cloth  establish- 
ment of  the  Daikokuya  he  ordered  eight  suits 
of  white  clothes. 

"  Bunkichi,"  inquired  the  master,  "  what  is 
the  use  of  those  eight  suits  of  white?  '' 

Bunkichi  laughed  as  he  answered  :  "  We  may 
all  be  dead  men  before  long,  if  we  go  out  to 
sea  in  this  storm.  The  chances  of  surviving 
are  few,  so  we  are  already  dead  in  heart.  I 
have  named  my  ship  Iitrei-marii.  ^\'e  are  go- 
ing to  dress  in  white  with  the  zridabukuro*  and 
we  shall  stick  triangular-shaped  papers  on  our 
foreheads,  as  they  do  for  the  dead." 

"What  horrible  things  you  do!"  exclaimed 
the  wife,  while  the  daughter,  Chocho,  with  sud- 
den inspiration,  said :  "  I  will  sew  your  white 
suit  for  you." 

"I  am  most  grateful,"  replied  the  lad,  "but 
I  have  already  ordered  others  to  do  it  for  me." 

"  Please  let  me  do  it,"  said  the  girl.  "  It 
may  be  the  last — "  and  at  this  Bunkichi  con- 
sented with  thanks. 

The  master,  who  seemed  to  have  prepared 
beforehand,  ordered  sake  and  a  set  of  little 
dishes  of  eatables  to  be  brought  forth,  and  then 
remarked:  "As  you  have  settled  to  start  to- 
morrow I  intend  to  offer  you  a  congratulatorv 
feast  in  advance,  hoping  that  you  may  arrive  at 
Yedo  and  have  good  luck  and  make  a  great 
profit." 

At  last  the  morrow  came,  and  early  in  the 
morning  Bunkichi  bade  farewell  to  the  men  of 
the  Daikokuya  and  put  on  his  white  suit,  which 
was  made  by  the  daughter  of  the  house,  and 
went  out  to  the  sea-shore.  The  master,  as  well 
as  his  wife,  with  their  daughter,  Chocho,  and 
all  the  employees  in  the  shop,  followed  him  in 
order  to  see  him  off.  Having  heard  of  his 
departure,  some  of  the  townspeople  with  whom 
he  was  acquainted,  and  those  poor  people  who 
had  received  his  alms,  flocked  together  from 
the  four  corners  of  the  town  to  bid  him  good-by. 

Having  bade  farewell  to  the  people,  Bun- 
kichi entered  a  small  boat  and  soon  got  on 
the  dead  at  a  burial  service  in  Japan. 


>90<  1 


OR    FROM    SHARK-HOV    TO    MERCHANT    PRINXE. 


979 


board  of  the  lurei-maru.  Those  who  came  to 
see  him  off,  as  they  stood  round  the  shore,  raised 
tiieir  voices,  calling  out  for  Bunkichi,  lament- 
ing his  departure.  Bunkichi  gave  a  signal  for 
the  anchor  to  be  weighed  and  the  sail  to  be 
hoisted ;  then  the  ship  soon  stood  out  to  sea. 
Both  the  men  on  the  shore  and  those  on  board 
the  ship  waved  their  hands  till  their  forms  had 
become  indiscernible,  while  the  ship,  driven 
by  the  strong  west  wind,  soon  became  lost  to 
sight  among  the  big  waves. 

Though  the  lurei-maru  ha<l  her  sail  up  only 
seven  tenths  of  its  whole  length,  she  sailed  on 
eastward  with  the  speed  of  an  arrow,  owing  to 
the  strong  wind.  In  a  very  short  time  she 
passed  the  Sea  of  Kumano,  and  then  soon  was 
in  the  Sea  of  Isc.  As  she  came  to  the  noted 
Yenshiu-nada  on  the  evening  of  that  day,  the 
wind  grew  stronger  and  the  rain  came  down  in 
torrents.  As  the  huge  waves,  mountain  high, 
came  rushing  from  the  far  ocean  and  the  ship 
was  tossed  like  a  tree-leaf,  the  crew  felt  as  if  they 
were  flung  down  into  the  abyss  of  darkness 
when  she  got  into  the  trough  of  the  waves. 
Those  si.x  robust  men,  who  had  hitherto  worked 
with  steady  and  fearless  courage,  suddenly 
gave  in  before  this  state  of  the  sea  and  lost  all 
heart  for  labor.  Nevertheless  Captain  Kichi- 
dayu,  as  steady  as  ever,  ran  about  here  and 
there,  stirring  the  crew  up  to  their  work. 

Among  the  eight  men  all  told,  the  one  most 
unaffected  by  the  dreadful  state  of  the  sea  was 
Bunkichi,  the  VV^anizame-Kozo,and  he,  with  the 
captain,  lent  his  helping  hand  to  the  tired  crew, 
calling  out  occasionally  :  "Hurrah!  This  is  fine! 
We  shall  get  to  Yedo  within  the  next  day.  Work 
hard,  all  of  you,  and  you  sha'n't  want  for  pay!  " 
And  then  he  doled  out  money  to  the  crew,  who 
were  encouraged  by  this  and  braced  themselves 
up  and  labored  their  best. 

Meanwhile  night  fell  and  the  storm  contin- 
ued. Though  nothing  was  visible  to  the  eyes,  the 
awful  sounds  of  the  waves,  and  the  wind,  which 
shook  masts  and  rigging,  deafened  the  ears ; 
and  the  heaven  and  the  earth  seemed  to  be 
swallowed  up  by  the  waters. 

By  degrees  the  crew's  courage  began  again 
to  fail,  and  one  of  them  muttered:  "  This  is  just 
the  sort  of   night  for  some  big  monster  like  a 

*^  An  imaginary 


wa/iizame  to  appear  !  "  To  which  another  said, 
"  Yes ;  I  feel  a  bit  nervous,  too." 

"  Come,  men;  a  little  more  perseverance  !" 
shouted  out  Bunkichi.  So  saying,  he  again  gave 
them  an  e.xtra  wage  and  continued,  "  You  fear 
the  7uanizame,  do  you?  I  rather  think  the 
wanizame  will  be  afraid  of  me  because  I  'm  the 
Wanizame-K  ozo.  Take  heart,  all  of  you !  Don't 
be  afraid  ! " 

The  men  were  cheered  up  and  said  :  "  Truly 
enough,  you  once  killed  the  ivanizame.  We 
need  n't  be  afraid!  Now,  all  right,  sir;  we  're 
rid  of  our  fears!  " 

However,  their  courage  was  of  but  short 
duration  ;  when  they  gazed  at  the  dark,  angry 
sea  they  again  lost  heart,  saying :  "  But,  sir, 
what  shall  we  do  if  the  timi-bozu*  comes  up — 
if  it  is  true,  as  the  people  say,  the  monster 
lives  in  this  ocean?  " 

Bunkichi,  as  he  gave  them  a  scornful  smile, 
stood  up  with  his  dagger  in  his  hand  and  said  : 
"  I  '11  sweep  him  down  with  this  sword  if  any 
such  creature  makes  his  appearance." 

Just  then  the  man  on  watch  suddenly 
shrieked:  "Ah!  the  sea-giant  has  come!  "  And 
he  ran  back  toward  the  stern,  while  the  others 
were  frightened  out  of  their  wits  and  ran  down 
into  the  cabin,  where  they  drew  their  heads 
back  between  their  shoulders  and  held  their 
breath  in  fear.  Bunkichi  looked  toward  the 
bow.  Sure  enough,  a  big  undefined  dark  form 
rose  at  the  front  of  the  ship,  about  ten  feet  in 
height.  He  drew  his  sword  and  ran  toward  the 
monster.  As  he  swept  the  giant  down  with  his 
sharp  weapon,  he  laughingly  returned  toward 
Kichidayu,  who  stood  by  the  mast. 

"What  was  that?"  Kichidayu  asked  Bun- 
kichi, who  answered,  still  smiling:  "  It  did  look 
like  a  round-headed  giant,  but  really  it  was 
only  a  column  of  mist  which  came  floating  in 
our  way.  That  's  what  they  call  the  '  sea- 
giant,'  I  suppose,  and  in  their  fright  they  fan- 
cied it  was  coming  on  board  to  seize  them." 

Kichidayu,  who  was  much  surprised  at  Bun- 
kichi's  courage,  said  :  "  Indeed  !  I  understand 
now  how  you  could  kill  the  wanizame,  by  the 
courage  you  have  just  shown,  and  which  I  can- 
not but  admire.  To  speak  the  truth,  I  did  n't 
feel  very  bold  myself  when  I  saw  that  big  dark 
giant  of  the  sea. 


980 


KIBUN    DAIZIN        OR    FROM    SHARK-BOY    TO    MERCHANT    PRINCE. 


form,  but  I  screwed  my  courage  up  so  as  not 
to  be  laughed  at  by  you." 

As  the  crew  had  not  yet  come  out  of  their 
cabin,  Kichidayu  called  out :  "  Now,  men, 
come  up;  your  master  has  killed  the  giant. 
Come,  quick,  quick  !" 

The  crew  trooped  out  at  this,  and  said : 
"Truly  we  heard  a  shriek  a  little  while  ago  !" 
At  which  Kichidayu  muttered,  "  Fools  !  " 

During  the  night,  however,  they  got  over  the 
Sea  of  Yenshiu  in  this  manner,  and  in  the  very 
early  morning  of  the  third  day  they  were  enter- 
ing the  Bay  of  Yedo.  Gradually  the  sea  was 
becoming  much  smoother,  too. 

"  We  are  safe,  master.  We  can  be  quite  at 
ease  in  our  hearts !  "  said  one  of  the  men.  "  Ah  ! 
I  see  the  headland  of  Haneda  there.  Beyond 
that  there  's  the  Bay  of  Shinagawa.  If  we  go 
forward  at  this  rate  we  shall  be  at  Yedo  by 
dawn  :  I  feel  safe  now.  But  I  felt  that  I  would 
be  eaten  alive  when  I  saw  the  iimi-bozu  at  the 
Yenshiu-nada  Sea." 

Then  Bunkichi  said,  as  he  laughed :  "  You 
don't  know  what  you  are  saying.  We  have 
been  all  along  dead  men  in  white  suits,  and  for 
dead  men  to  have  been  alive  is  an  absurdity!" 
Then  all,  for  the  first  time,  burst  out  into  merry, 
hearty  laughter. 

Captain  Kichidayu  turned  to  Bunkichi,  say- 
ing: "  Master,  what  a  voyage!  In  a  couple  of 
days  and  nights  we  sailed  the  distance  which 
takes  about  ten  days  at  other  times.  That  we 
have  come  here  safely  through  this  storm  is  due 
to  your  contrivance  of  laying  the  timbers  cross- 
wise on  the  boat.     But  for  that  we  should  cer- 

(To  be  I 


tainly  have  capsized."  Then  he  tiu-ned  to  the 
sailors  and  added:  "What  say  you,  my  men? 
Is  there  any  one  who  could  beat  him  in  wit  or 
in  courage?  " 

"  No,  there  's  not  another  like  him,"  all  re- 
plied in  one  voice.  "  He  killed  the  watiizame 
as  well  as  the  iimi-bozu,  and  so  long  as  we  are 
with  him  there  is  nothing  on  earth  to  be 
dreaded.  Please  sir,  employ  us  under  you  for 
years  to  come.  We  shall  never  again  play 
cowards  as  we  did,  sir  !  " 

Bunkichi  replied :  "  I  fear  you  would  never 
face  the  iimi-bozu.'"  To  which  they  could  say 
nothing,  but  scratched  their  heads  in  silence. 

Though  the  wind  was  still  high,  after  the 
storm  through  which  they  had  fought  their  way 
out,  the  inland  seas  seemed  to  them  "  as  smooth 
as  matting,"  as  the  saying  is,  and  soon  after 
dawn  all  hands  on  board  the  Jurei-maru  arrived 
safely  at  Yedo. 

At  that  time  in  Yedo  the  orange  merchants, 
in  spite  of  the  stress  of  weather,  had  been 
eagerly  awaiting  orange-ships  from  Kishu 
Province  every  day,  on  account  of  the  nearness 
of  the  bellows  festival.  And  this  was  the  only 
ship  that  did  not  disappoint  their  expectations. 
When  the  ship's  arrival  was  known,  the  joy  of 
the  merchants  was  beyond  description,  and 
soon  this  popular  song  immortalized  the  happy 
welcome  of  the  orange-ship  : 

On  the  dark  sea  beholden 
A  sail,  a  white  sail! 
Whence  does  it  hail? 
From  Kishu's  far  shore 
It  brings  precious  store 
Of  oranges  golden. 

ontirttted. ) 


"YOURS    SEVERELY." 

i^The  Letter  of  a  Five-year-old.^ 


By  Edith  M.  Thomas. 


Once  more  she  dipped  her  pen  in  ink, 
.\nd  wrote  :   "  I  love  you  dearly." 
"And  now,"  she  said,  and  stopped  to  think, 
"  I  'II  put,  '  I  'm 

Yours  sn'creh'.' " 


98i 


WHAT  'S  IN  A  NAME? 


Bv  Hannah  G.  Fernald. 


In  the  morning  he  's  a  pirate,  with   a  cutlass 
and  a  gun, 
And  we  tremble  at  the  flashing  of  his  eye ; 
His  name,  as  he  informs  us,  is  an  awe-inspiring 

one : 
"Lord  Ferdinando  Roderigo  Guy!" 

By  ten  o'clock  our  pirate  has  renounced   his 
gory  trade ; 
In  armor  now,  he  has  a  lance  and  shield ; 
He  gallantly  advances  to  defend   a   helpless 
maid, 
And  we  know  that  bold  "Sir  Launcelot" 
has  the  field. 


And  next,  a  skulking  savage,  he  is  lurking  in 
the  hall, 
Most  alarming  in  his  feathered  war-array  ; 
But  he  graciously  assures  us  he  will  answer  if 

we  call 
"  Hiawatha  Mudjekeewis  Ojibway!" 

As  "  Horatio  Nelson  Dewey  "  he  's  an  admiral 
of  parts, 
And  last  in  all  his  catalogue  of  names 
Comes  the  very  simple  title  under  which  he 
rules  our  hearts, 
For  when  he  's   sound  asleep  he  's  merely 
"James!" 


I 


r^  Jiootil^i^  fipei^.- 


er;    l®aj/y  J^U^.  Jor^cJ  ^y^  Jl^  '^o^'^hj 
h\P^   out  ^^^^^CCO^C   ]HoOT7]i|>7e- 


A    CITIZEN    OF    THE    DEEP. 


Bv  LiDA  Rose  McCabe. 


To  walk  the  bed  of  the  deep  as  you  or  I 
walk  upon  the  land  is  the  every-day  life  of  the 
hero  of  this  workaday  story.  It  is  over  thirty 
years  since  Alfred  Pahlberg  made  his  first 
plunge  as  a  diver.  No  man,  it  is  said  in  diving 
circles,  has  spent  more  time  at  the  bottom  of 
the  sea  than  this  doughty  Norseman.  When 
a  lad  of  seven  he  shipped  before  the  mast.  It 
was  the  dream  of  his  boyhood  to  see  the  New 
World,  amass  a  fortune  there,  and  then  go  back 
and  live  out  his  life  in  his  beloved  land  of  the 
viking.  How  much  of  that  dream  came  true, 
his  is  the  story  to  tell.  The  life  of  a  sailor 
thirty  years  ago,  however  rich  in  adventure, 
was  no  royal  road  to  fortune.  Two  dollars  and 
a  half  a  month  was  all  that  the  Swedish  sailor 


boy  could  earn  when  he  faced  the  New  World 
to  find  the  turning-point  of  his  career  aboard  a 
schooner,  engaged  in  hauling  stones  to  build 
that  marvel  of  the  last  century,  the  Brooklyn 
Bridge. 

"  The  first  time  I  dived,"  said  Pahlberg, 
"  was  off  Race  Rock  Lighthouse,  when  Captain 
Scott  was  laying  the  bed-rock.  I  shall  never 
forget  it.  I  was  scared  to  death.  It  felt  as  if 
I  were  being  smothered  between  two  feather- 
beds.  I  wanted  to  come  up  at  once,  but  pride 
kept  me  down.  I  was  afraid  my  companions 
would  laugh  at  me  and  call  me  a  coward.' 

From  two  to  four  hours  is  the  average  time 
a  diver  stays  under  water  without  being  hauled 
up.    Pahlberg  has  often  worked   seven   hours 


983 


984 


A    CITIZEN    OF    THE    DEEP. 


[Sept. 


without  signaling  to  be  lifted.  He  knows  of 
but  One  man  who  has  beaten  the  record — his 
master  outdid  him  by  half  an  hour. 

"  I  am  always  ready,"  said  Pahlberg,  "  to  go 
down  at  any  time,  day  or  night,  in  storm  or 
calm.  When  once  the  forty-pound  iron  helmet 
is  fastened  down  tightly  over  the  shoulders  of 
the  rubber  suit,  into  which  I  slip  through  the 
opening  in  the  neck ;  when  the  weights  of  si.xty 
pounds  each  are  suspended  from  the  chest  and 
back ;  when  my  feet  are  incased  in  iron  shoes 
weighing  twenty  pounds  each ;  when  the  air- 
hose  is  fastened  to  the  pipe  in  the  back  of  tlie 
helmet,  and  I  take  the  leap,  I  feel  that  my  life 
is  at  the  mercy  of  the  man  at  the  life-line.  Yes, 
it's  dangerous  ;  but  so  accustomed  doesthediver 
become  to  the  peril  that  he  rarely  thinks  of  it." 

For  eighteen  years  an  old  pearl-diver  had 
the  care  of  Pahlberg's  life-line.  He  went  with 
him    everywhere.  i  i 

He  was  an  old 
man,  and  he  knew 
the  sea  by  heart, 
and  never  grew 
indifferent  to  his 
awful  responsi- 
bility. Since  his 
death,  however, 
Pahlberg  accepts 
the  service  of  any 
"life-liner"  who 
may  happen  to 
be  at  hand. 

"  When  a  diver 
firststrikes  the  bottom,"  Pahlberg  said, in  answer 
to  my  question,  "it's  like  entering  a  dark  room  — 
all  is  densely  black,  then  by  degrees  shapes 
begin  to  stand  out,  and  soon  everything  grows 
distinct  and  familiar. 

"  Like  most  divers,  I  prefer  to  dive  at  niglit. 
It  is  better  for  the  eyes.  Sudden  passage  from 
the  dark  of  the  bottom  to  the  light  at  the  sur- 
face of  the  sea  is  injurious  to  the  sight.  As  soon 
as  the  helmet  is  removed,  a  bandage  is  put  over 
the  eyes  for  some  moments.  Without  this  pre- 
caution, sight  might  soon  be  destroyed." 

One  of  the  most  curious,  ine.'cplainable  things 
to  divers  is  the  fact  that  it  is  through  the  sense 
of  touch,  rather  than  that  of  sight,  that  they  are 
able  to  identify  objects  under  water. 


AT  WORK  AT  THE  BOTTOM  OF 
THE  OCEAN. 


liefore  attempting  to  raise  a  vessel,  the  diver 
learns  the  class  to  which  she  belongs.  The 
expert  is  familiar  with  every  detail  in  the  con- 
struction of  all  kinds  of  water-craft.  He  car- 
ries to  the  bottom  in  his  mind's  eye  the  picture 
of  the  sunken  vessel,  and  when  he  finds  her, 
he  measures  every  part  with  his  outstretched 
arms  and  hands.  He  can  tell  upon  which  side 
she  lies,  whether  she  struck  fore  or  aft,  and  the 
nature  and  e.xtent  of  her  damages.  Every  fact 
he  records  in  his  memory.  It  is  his  only  tablet. 
When  he  signals  to  be  hauled  up  he  has  almost 
as  accurate  and  detailed  a  report  to  submit  to 
the  authorities  as  if  hours  had  been  spent  in 
figuring  it  out  upon  paper. 

"  Only  a  very  few  vessels  are  wTecked  now- 
adays," said  Pahlberg.  "The  average  is  thirty- 
five  a  year.  More  care  is  e.xercised  of  late  years 
in  the  construction  of  vessels ;  then,  too,  light- 
houses have  multiplied. 

"  It  is  strange  how  the  habits  of  childhood 
cling  to  a  man,"  mused  the  old  diver,  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  wonderfully  clear  blue  eyes.  "  I 
have  never  got  over  the  habit  of  putting  my 
finger,  when  I  hurt  it,  into  my  mouth.  Often, 
ill  blasting  rocks  or  mending  a  hole  in  a  vessel, 
I  hit  my  finger.  To  ease  the  pain,  I  at  once 
raise  it  to  my  mouth,  only  to  be  reminded  that 
my  face  is  hid  behind  the  little  iron-barred  glass 
window  of  the  helmet  through  which  my  eyes 
look  out.  The  heavy  gloves  which  we  are 
obliged  to  wear  from  October  until  April  are 
very  cumbersome,  and  make  work  slow  and 
awkward.  It  is  always  very  cold  at  the  bottom 
of  the  sea,  especially  in  winter.  Before  I  put 
on  my  diving-suit,  I  dress  in  as  heavy  flannels 
as  if  I  were  about  to  go  up  to  the  Arctic  regions, 
and,  I  tell  you,  they  are  none  too  warm.  When 
the  fiercest  storm  is  raging  above,  we  never 
know  it  below.     The  bottom  is  undisturbed." 

Pahlberg  has  dived  as  deep  as  a  hundred 
feet.  He  knows  of  but  one  diver  who  has  gone 
deeper — his  old  life-liner,  who  had  often 
dived  one  hundred  and  eighteen  feet  in  pur- 
suit of  pearls. 

"  The  fish  and  I  are  pretty  good  friends,"  lie 
continued.  "  Frequently  in  blasting  rock  I  have 
killed  small  fish,  which  the  larger  fish  would  eat 
out  of  my  hand.  I  have  never  been  troubled 
with  sharks.      I   liave  talked  with  divers  from 


'9<h] 


A    CniZKX    Of    THE    DEKP. 


985 


I 


all  parts  of  the  world,  and  never  met  but  one  sures  rescued  from  the  sea.  Ships,  full-rigged 
who  had.  So  persistently  did  a  shark  pursue  brigs,  cleverly  carved  out  of  wood  and  painted 
that  diver  that  he  was  forced  to  hide  several  by  his  own  hands  and  mounted  in  deep  glass- 
hours  in  the  cabin  of  a  ship  to  escape  him."  covered  frames,  adorn  the  walls,  while  no  other 
Most  of  Pahlberg's  diving  has  been  confined  man  in  the  world,  perhaps,  has  just  such  a  library 
to  the  Maine  coast  and  within  a  circuit  of  a     as   this   Swedish   diver.     It  consists  of   some 

fifty-two  volumes,  all  of  his 
own  writing.  They  contain  the 
record  of  the  hours,  covering 
quite  twenty  years,  that  he  has 
lived  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 
During  the  first  year  he  noted  the 
oddities  of  the  deep,  the  queer 
fish  and  vegetation,  and  the  ini- 
l)ression  they  made  upon  him ; 
but  as  he  grew  familiar  with  old 
ocean's  secrets,  he  ceased,  un- 
happily, to  record  his  experi- 
ences, and  the  later  volumes  are 
confined  almost  wholly  to  a  rec- 
ord of  place,  ship,  days,  hours 
of  toil,  and  earnings.  At  first 
he  wrote  in  Scandinavian,  but  as 
he  acquired  English  his  mother- 
tongue  was  discarded.  Often 
has  the  master  diver  importuned 
his  master  disciple  to  make  a 
copy  of  that  unique  anil  won- 
derful record  of  unrivaled  en- 
durance with  the  under  waste 
of  waters. 

"  Some  day  I  will  go  over  the 
books,"  smiles  the  old  diver. 
"  They  will  tell  to  within  a 
very  few  hours  how  much  of 
my  life  has  been  lived  under 
water." 

He  could  not  recall  a  day  in 
twenty-seven  years  that  he  had 
failed  to  dive.  Allowing  five 
hundred  miles  from  New  London,  Connecticut,  hours  to  a  day, — and  he  does  not  hesitate  to 
wliere  he  occupied  a  pretty  land  home,  and  assert,  without  consulting  his  record,  that  the 
lived  in  comfort  with  his  grown-up  family,  average  will  far  exceed  that,^ — the  hero  of  this 
Like  all  men  whose  lives  are  passed  close  to  workaday  story  has  lived,  to  date,  at  the  bottom 
nature,  the  old  diver  is  as  simple  and  unaffected  of  the  sea  some  50,000  hours— equal  to  6250 
as  a  child.  When  not  toiling  at  the  bottom,  he  days  of  eight  hours  each,  or  nearly  twenty-one 
is  with  his  family  in  the  cozy  home,  rich  in  trea-    years  of  the  average  working-days. 


PAIfLBHK(i,  THE   DIVER,    I.S    COMPLEIE    AKMOK,    AND    HIS    "LIFE-LINER. 


Vol.  XXXI.— 124. 


THE    PURSUIT    OF    THE    CALICO    CAT. 


By  Caritline  M.  Flller. 


"  Oh,  say,  come  out  and  see  the  rabbits  try 
the  new  house ! "  called  Franklin  under  the 
sitting-room  window,  and  everybody  but  grand- 
mother hurried  out  into  the  yard. 

There  were  two  rabbits,  —  a  black  one  with 
white  spots,  and  a  white  one  with  yellow  spots, — 
and  they  were  called  "  Mercurius  Dulcis"  and 
"  Overture  to  Zampa."  Franklin  had  found  the 
first  name  on  one  of  his  mother's  medicine-bot- 
tles, and  admired  it;  but  Mrs.  Bun  was  always 
called  Dulcie  for  short.  Overture  was  a  fine 
big  fellow  with  muscular  sides,  and  a  louder 
stamp  of  the  hind  leg  than  any  other  rabbit  in 
the  Rabbit  Club.  Indeed,  Franklin  had  been 
made  president  of  the  Rabbit  Clubjust  because 
of  the  size  and  strength  and  sound  of  Over- 
ture's feet.  Even  "  Beansy ,"  Jones's  white  rabbit 
Alonzo,  was  as  nothing  beside  him. 

Kenneth  ran  after  his  mother,  Beansy  went 
home,  and  Franklin  went  into  the  shed  to  get 
his  tool-chest,  for  the  door  of  the  cupola  needed 
loosening. 

"  Let  me  hold  Stamper  while  you  fix  the 
door,"  Eunice  begged,  for,  being  Franklin's  sis- 
ter, she  naturally  regarded  Stamper  in  the  light 
of  a  nephew.  (Stamper  was  Overture's  "  club  " 
name.) 

"  No,  sir;  he  's  all  right ;  he  '11  stay  there," 
said  Franklin. 

"  But  he  's  trying  to  get  out  at  the  cupola, 
Franklin.     I  can  see  his  ears  coming  upstairs." 

Franklin  sawed  away,  but  did  not  reply. 

"  Franklin,  he  is  coming  out." 

"  Oh,  go  play  with  your  cats  !  "  said  Franklin, 
impatiently,  and  before  Eunice  could  make  him 
look  around,  Stamper  was  off  across  the  yard. 

"Head  him  off!  Head  him  off!"  called 
Franklin,  as  he  saw  the  scudding  of  a  white 
tail.    "  Round  by  the  alley  !    Quick  !    Quick  !  " 

Eunice  ran  as  fast  as  she  could,  but  before 
they  could  stop  him,  the  rabbit  had  dodged 
under  a  barn  and  disappeared. 

"  Oh,  thunder !  "  said  Franklin.     "  ^Ve  can't 


ever  catch  him  nnw.     How  in  the    world  did 
he  get  out  ?  " 

Eunice  went  through  a  little  struggle  with 
herself,  and  then  said :  "  He  —  I  was  holding  him 
just  a  minute,  Franklin.  You  see,  he  was  'most 
out  himself  and  so  — " 

"You  did  n't  try  to  hold  him  after  what  I 
said !  " 

"  Yes,  I  did." 

Franklin  might  have  understood  how  hard  it 
was  for  her  to  tell  this,  but  he  did  n't,  and  said 
angril)'':  "  Eunice,  you  're  a  mean,  meddlesome 
girl,  and  you  .shall  never  even  touch  one  of  my 
rabbits  again ! " 

Eunice  turned  and  went  inl/a  the  house  with- 
out saying  a  word,  but  Franklin  heard  a  pitiful 
wail  when  the  door  was  closed,  and  thought : 
"  Hm  !   serves  her  right !  " 

He  spent  the  rest  of  the  morning  lookfRg  for 
Stamper  and  putting  "  Lost  "  signs,  with  a  de- 
scription of  the  rabbit,  on  all  the  barns  in  the 
neighborhood.  But  he  did  not  expect  to  find  him 
again ;  and  luncheon  that  day  was  not  a  cheer- 
ful meal,  for  Franklin  had  lost  the  finest  rabbit 
in  the  whole  club,  and  all  through  the  careless- 
ness of  a  little  girl. 

As  he  sat  out  under  the  tree,  after  luncheon, 
Weejums  picked  her  way  daintily  down  be- 
side him,  having  come  out  for  her  daily  airing. 
Weejums  was  the  lovely  tortoise-shell  kitten  who 
had  come  to  Eunice  the  previous  Christmas,  in 
the  top  of  a  stocking,  with  a  lace  ruff  around  her 
neck  and  a  pink  candy  elephant  tied  to  her 
hind  foot.  She  had  been  so  little  then  that 
there  was  scarcely  room  on  her  sides  for  all  her 
beautiful  tortoise-shell  S]jots,  but  now  she  was 
nearly  full  grown,  with  the  longest  whiskers, 
and  the  sweetest  purr  in  the  world. 

The  temptation  to  make  her  jump  proved  too 
much  for  Franklin,  and  he  shied  a  small  chip 
at  her  so  neatly  that  it  passed  directly  under 
her,  tossing  the  sand  about  her  feet.  Weejums 
gave  a  wild   meow !   and  tore  into  the  alley. 


986 


THE    rUKSriT    OI--    THE    CALICO    CAT. 


987 


"  Come  back,  Weej  —  here,  here,"  called 
Franklin,  good-naturedly,  for  teasing  animals  was 
not  usually  a  fault  of  his.  But  he  was  cross 
to-day,  and  had  not  Eunice  lost  his  rabbit  ? 

He  put  down  his  knife  and  went  out  into  the 
alley  to  bring  Wecjums  back;  but  at  that  mo- 
ment something  terrible  happened.  .\  baker's 
cart,  followed  by  a  fierce  dog,  jingled  into  the 


"SHF.    HAD    ei'Mli    TO    EL'MCIi    TUt    rKKVIDlS     I  I IKISTMA  ^.     IN     IIIK 
TOl'  OF  A  STuCKlNG,   \VI  1  H  A  LACE  KfFF  AKOLM)  IIEK  NECK. 


alley,  and  the  dog  made  a  dash  at  Weejums. 
Franklin  ran  for  the  dog,  and  Cyclone,  their 
own  dog,  who  happened  to  come  around  the 
house  just  then,  ran  after  Franklin.  Poor  Wee- 
jums could  not  see  that  the  second  dog  was  a 
friend,  and  did  not  recognize  Franklin  in  the 
boy  who  was  chasing  her.  She  left  the  alley 
and  dashed  across  the  street  into  a  vacant  lot, 
where  there  were  three  other  dogs.     They  gave 


a  yelp  of  delight  and  joined  in  the  pursuit,  fol- 
lowed by  several  small  boys,  who  rushed  along 
after  Franklin,  shouting,  ■•  Hi,  there  !  Sick  her! 
Sick  her !  " 

In  a  few  minutes  every  boy  and  dog  in  the 
neighborhood  was  on  Weejum's  trail,  and 
Franklin  could  not  stop  long  enough  to  explain 
ti)  them  that  he  himself  was  not  chasing  her. 
The  hunt  came  to  an  end  when  she  vanished 
under  some  tumble-down  sheds,  many  blocks 
away  from  home. 

Franklin  did  not  go  home  after  this,  but  wan- 
dered around  the  neighborhood  wondering  what 
he  should  do  if  she  did  not  come  back. 

•'  What  do  you  mean  by  chasing  my  sister's 
(at  ?  "  he  asked  fiercely  of  one  of  the  small  boys 
\\  ho  followed  him. 

"  .\w,  go  'long!  You  were  chasing  it  your- 
self," was  the  insulting  reply.  .\nd  F'ranklin 
realized  that  he  could  never  make  them  believe 
anything  else. 

"  Pshaw !  all  cats  come  home,"  he  thought. 
■'  She  '11  find  her  way  back  all  right.  But  rab- 
bits are  different." 

He  took  a  car  home  and  looked  eagerly  at 
the  front  porch,  half  expecting  that  Weejums 
would  be  sitting  there  waiting  for  him  with  a 
forgiving  smile.  But  she  did  not  appear,  and 
lie  went  all  around  the  alley  again,  calling  her 
in  beseeching  tones.  Suddenly,  under  the  corner 
I  if  a  neighbor's  shed,  he  saw  something  wdiite 
move,  and  went  into  the  house  to  get  a  saucer 
of  milk. 

"  I  s'pose  she  '11  be  afraid  to  come  to  me 
now,"  he  thought,  and  the  thought  hurt,  for 
Franklin  was  not  a  cruel  boy. 

He  set  the  milk  down  very  carefully  near  tlie 
place  where  he  had  seen  the  wh-.te  thing  move, 
and  jiresently  it  hopped  out  with  a  great  flap  of 
the  ears  and  began  to  drink.  But  it  was  a  white 
thing  with  black  spots,  and  its  name  was 
Stamper. 

.\t  that  moment  Eunice  and  her  mother  came 
through  the  gate,  having  just  returned  from 
shopping. 

"Stamper's  come  home,"  Franklin  shouted 
before  they  reached  the  steps. 

'•  I  thought  you  told  F'.unice  there  was  no 
chance  of  that,"  said  Mrs.  Wood,  kissing  Ken- 
neth, who  had  run  to  meet  them. 


9SS 


THE    PURSUIT    OF    THE    CALICO    CAT. 


[Sept. 


"Well,  I  did  n't  think  there  was,"  said  Frank- 
lin, shamefacedly.  "  But  Eunice  need  n't  have 
cried."  He  suspected  that  his  mother  had  very 
little  admiration  for  boys  who  made  their  sisters 
cry. 

"  There  was  n't  one  chance  in  a  thousand," 
he  added ;  "  and  I  would  n't  have  caught  him 
then,   you   see,  if  I    had  n't   had    the   milk." 

"  What  were  you  doing 
with  milk  ?  "  asked  Eu- 
nice, suspiciously. 

Franklin  did  not  an- 
swer, but  looked  so  im- 
comfortable  that  Mrs. 
Wood  changed  the  sub- 
ject; for  she  made  a  point 
of  never  asking  one  of 
her  children  embarrass- 
ing questions  before  the 
others,  and  this  was  one 
reason  why  they  loved 
her  so  much. 

After  supper  there  came 
a  loud  thump  at  the  side 
door,  and  Franklin,  who 
was  studying  in  the  par- 
lor, heard  a  delighted 
shout  from  Kenneth. 
Then  Eunice  came  run- 
ning in  with  a  smile,  and, 
taking  Franklin's  hand, 
said  :  "  I  've  got  some- 
thing for  you,  to  make 
up  for  having  hurt  your 
feelings  this  morning." 

"  But  Stamper  's  come 
home,"  he  said,  giving  her 
a  rough  little  hug.  "And 
I  can't  take  any  present 
from  you  now.  Sis;  so  run 
away  and  let  me  study." 

"  I  told  her  I  thought  you  would  n't  care 
to,"  said  Mrs.  Wood,  looking  relieved.  She 
was  so  glad  that  Franklin  felt  he  did  not  de- 
serve a  present ;  although,  of  course,  she  could 
not  kno\^•  yet  just  why. 

"  But  you  must  come  and  look  at  them,"  in- 
sisted Eunice.     "  They  're  in  my  room." 

So  Franklin  went  to  look,  and  "  they"  were  sit- 
ting on  Eunice's  dressing-table  — the  most  beau- 


tiful pair  of  little  Maltese  and  white  rabbits  that 
he  had  ever  seen;  and  all  his  life  long  he  had 
wanted  a  Maltese  rabbit ! 

"  Those  did  n't  come  from  the  bird-store,  I 
bet,"  he  burst  out  in  delight,  quite  forgetting 
that  he  was  not  to  keep  them. 

"  They  came  from  the  farm  of  the  father  of  a 
boy  who  works  at  Taylor's,"  said  Mrs.  Wood, 


THEV    WERE    SITTING    ON 
MALTESE 


EINICE  S    DRESSING-TADLb:  — THE    MOST     BEAUTIFUL  PAIR   OF   LITTLE 
AND    WHITE   RABBITS    THAT    HE    HAD    EVER    SEEN." 

smihng  affectionately  at  the  boy's  delight.  "  The 
bird-store  rabbits  were  worthless." 

"  You  're  just  a  brick,  mother,  and  so  is 
Eunice.  But  I  can't  take  these  little  fel- 
lows —  I  really  can't.  Eunice  must  keep  them 
herself" 

"  Eunice  will  feel  hurt  if  you  don't  keep 
them,"  said  Mrs.  Wood. 

"  Oh,  but  there  are  reasons  why  I  can't," 


'904-] 


THE    PLKSLIT    OF    THE    CALICO    CAT. 


989 


said  Franklin,  desperately.  "  I  don't  want  to 
tell  before  the  kids." 

"  Well,  they  can  be  my  rabbits  for  to-night, 
then,"  said  Mrs.  Wood,  in  her  tjuiet  way,  "  and 
to-morrow  we  '11  decide  to  whom  they  really  are 
to  belong.  I  shall  feel  very  proud,  I  assure 
you,  to  own  so  beautiful  a  pair  of  rabbits,  if 
only  for  a  single  night." 

Kunice,  who  had  missed  being  greeted  by 
Weejums,  was  walking  through  the  house  calling 
her  pet.  lUit  no  ilistant  piirr-eoio  answered 
to  her  call,  and  no  tortoise-shell  tail  waved 
a  greeting  from  the  tO|)  of  fence  or  shed. 

Mrs.  Wood  turned  to  Franklin  and  asked 
him  if  he  had  seen  anything  of  Weejums,  and 
Franklin  told  her  the  whole  miserable  story,  or 
nearly  the  whole ;  for  of  course  the  children 
came  running  in  to  interrupt. 

"  Don't  tell  Eunice,"  his  mother  said  quickly. 
'■  It  would  make  it  so  much  harder  for  her  if  she 
thought  you  had  anything  to  do  with  it." 

So  Franklin  did  not  tell,  but  he  never  liked 
to  think  afterward  of  the  days  that  followed. 
Kunice  went  around  with  a  white  face,  while 
Kenneth  almost  tore  his  clothes  to  shreds  crawl- 
ing about  under  barns  and  fences.  The  loss  of 
Stamper  had  been  sad,  of  course,  for  rabbits  are 
attractive;  but  Weejums  was  like  one  of  the 
family. 

Eunice  wrote  out  an  advertisement  to  be  put 
in  the  paper : 

LOST. — A  little  girl's  tortoise-shell  c.it,  with  pink 
toes  and  a  sweet  face,  answering  to  the  name  of  •'  Wec-je 
Wee-je,  kim-um-sing." 

And  Mrs.  Wood  put  it  all  in  except  the  '■  Kim- 
um-sing,"  and  adding,  instead,  that  there  would 
be  a  reward  of  two  dollars  to  any  one  who 
returned  the  cat  to  her  home. 

This  notice  appeared  for  three  days,  and  on 
the  fourth  another  one  followed  it: 

In  addition  to  above  reward,  offered  for  return  of 
the  above  tortoise-shell,  will  be  given  two  fine,  fat, 
handsome  rabbits,  in  splendid  condition,  with  one  pa- 
latial, airy  rabbit-house,  eight  rooms,  staircases,  cupola, 
and  all  modern  improvements. 

F.  Wood,  Esq. 

Mrs.  Wood  smiled  as  she  read  this,  although 
her  lips  trembled,  and  she  thought:  "That 
must  almost  have  broken  Franklin's  heart." 


The  next  day  Kenneth  was  walking  along 
the  road  when  he  saw  some  boys  looking  up  at 
a  tree  and  throwing  stones;  and  he  caught  his 
breath  as  he  heard  a  most  unbird-like  meow .' 
from  among  the  branches. 

"  Say,  what  kind  of  a  cat  is  it  ?  "  he  asked  of 
a  ragamuffin  who  was  preparing  to  throw  an 
ancient  apple. 

"  Caliker  cat,"  said  the  boy.  "  Up  there. 
See  ?  "     And  he  closed  one  eye  to  take  aim. 

But  Kenneth  had  recognized  the  animal. 
"  She  is  n't  calico.  She  's  tortoise-shell !  "  burst 
out  Kenneth,  turning  red  with  delight.  "  She  's 
our  Weejums,  and  I  'm  goin'  to  take  her 
home." 

"  Oh,  she  's  your  cat,  is  she  ?  "  asked  the 
hoy,  dropping  his  ap])le  and  looking  dangerous. 
"Your  cat  —  when  we  chased  it  uyt  there? 
Say,  you  better  run  home  to  your  ma-ma, 
little  boy.      D'  ye  hear.?" 

"  Don't  have  to,"  Kenneth  responded. 

"  Caliker  cat,"  sneered  the  boy,  insultingly. 
"  Caliker,  I  say.     Old  caliker  cat !  " 

"Tortoise-shell,"  insisted  Kenneth,  politely 
but  firmly. 

The  boy  doubled  up  his  fists  with  a  snort  of 
rage, —  he  was  bigger  than  Kenneth, —  and  — 

]5ut  we  will  not  describe  what  followed.  Some 
eye-witnesses  declare  that  a  very  lively,  if 
not  very  "  scientific,"  tussle  followed,  in  which 
Kenneth,  in  spite  of  his  gentle  bringing-up, 
showed  a  familiarity  with  fisticuffs  that  would 
hardly  have  pleased  his  mother  even  if  she  /tad 
admired  his  courage  and  grit,  which  were  worthy 
of  a  better  cause. 

We  shall  record  only  the  outcome  of  the 
encounter,  which  was  that  the  larger  boy  saw 
the  error  of  his  position  and  finally  acknow- 
ledged that  the  animal  icas  a  "  tortoise-shell," 
as  Kenneth   had   suggested. 

"  He  's  licked  him  !  He  's  licked  him  I  (nve 
him  the  cat,"  called  a  larger  boy  who  had 
strolled  up  while  the  fight  was  in  progress. 
And  all  the  others  drew  away  from  the  tree 
while  Kenneth  coaxed  \\'eejums  down  with  a 
voice  that  she  recognized,  although  she  would 
never  have  known  his  poor  bruised  little  face. 
-And,  to  crown  all,  just  as  he_  had  taken  the 
precious  cat  fondly  in  his  arms,  who  should 
come  whistling  up  the  street  but  Franklin! 


990 


THE    PURSUIT    OF    THE    CALICO    CAT. 


He  understood  the  situation  at  a  glance,  and 
striding  up  to  Patsy  McGann,  seized  him  by 
the  shoulder,  saying :  "  Did  you  lick  him  ? 
Answer  me  !     Did  you  lick  that  little  fellow  ?  " 

"  Naw,  he  licked  me;  an'  just  on  account  of 
that  old  caliker  cat  you  was  chasin'  the  other 
day." 

"  What  kind  of  a  cat  did  you  say  it  was  ?  " 
he  asked,  turning  to  Patsy. 

"  A.  cal  —  I  mean  turtle-shell  cat,"  said 
Patsy,  sullenly,  walking  off  with  his  friends. 

Franklin  took  Kenneth  in  at  the  back  door 
and  washed  his  face  before  letting  any  one  see 
him.  Then  they  walked  triumphantly  into  the 
parlor,  with  Weejums  on  Kenneth's  shoulder. 

Eunice  was  practising  at  the  piano,  with 
Mrs.  Wood  beside  her,  so  they  did  not  see 
Weejums  until  Eunice  felt  a  little  purring  face 
against  her  ow-n,  and  screamed  for  jc^. 

The  affair  with  Patsy  McGann  was  explained 
by  Franklin  to  his  mother,  who  gently  but  firmly 
made  clear  to  her  youngest  son  the  unwisdom 
of  trying  to  prove  one's  self  in  the  right  by  the 
argument  of  a  fist. 

"  Mother,"  said  Franklin,  later  in  the  after- 
noon, "  may  I  have  a  moment  with  you  in  the 
parlor —  in  private?  " 

"  Certainly.  No,  Eunice,  you  and  Kenny 
are  not  to  come." 

"  Well,  dear,  what  is  it  ?  "  she  asked  as  he 
drew  her  down  beside  him  on  the  sofa. 


"  Mother,"  he  said  gloomily,  "  I  'm  going  to 
give  Kenny  my  rabbits.  'T  was  in  the  adver- 
tisement, and  1  promised." 

"  Oh,  but  Kenny  did  n't  see  the  advertise- 
ment, and  I  would  n't  give  away  the  rabbits, 
Franklin  dear." 

"  Yes,  mother,  but  I  promised,  you  see." 

"  That  was  in  case  a  stranger  should  find  her. 
But  Kenny  is  such  a  little  boy.  And  I  know 
he  honestly  would  n't  want  you  to  give  up  the 
rabbits  you  've  had  so  long." 

"  Well,  then,  I  '11  tell  you;  there  is  one  other 
thing  that  must  be  done,"  said  Franklin,  after  a 
pause. 

"  Yes,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Wood,  sympatheti- 
cally, guessing  at  his  meaning.  "  I  'd  thought 
of  them,  but  then  I  remembered  how  much 
you  'd  always  wanted  a  Maltese  — " 

"  Don't  speak  of  it,"  said  Franklin.  "  I 
have  n't  decided  yet." 

It  took  him  all  the  morning  to  make  up  his 
mind ;  but  when  Eunice  and  Kenneth  went  in 
to  dinner,  at  each  of  their  plates  stood  a  head 
of  lettuce  scooped  out  in  the  middle,  and  from 
the  center  of  each  green  frill  peered  the  round 
face  of  a  little  bunny. 

"  The  Maltese  ones !  "  said  Eunice,  w-ith  a 
gasp,  and  Kenneth  turned  quite  pale  with  sur- 
prise. 

"  Yes,"  said  Franklin,  solemnly  tucking  his 
napkin  under  his  chin,  "  they  're  for  you !  " 


II  ,.•-,*'-»".■  '•' 


(;k;>..s 


iii'.'iiiii»(iii')i'Ai 


(Begun  in  the  August  number.) 

Chapter   III. 
DAME  Hester's  way. 

She  was  a  poor,  bowed,  hunchbacked  crea- 
ture, wrapped  in  a  tattered  cloak,  and  carrvinc; 

r      ■   ■       ■ 


f^- 


% 


I 


V 


■M 


'A 


ME   SINGER.    SHE   NODDED  AND  BECKON 
K    TOWARD    HER." 


singer,  she   nodded  and  beckoned   Elinor  to- 
ward her. 

"  It  vas  a  brave  song  zat,  mon  enfant."     The 

voice  was  soft  and  musical.     "  God  save  King 

Sharle!    You  are  for  ze  king  ?    Ah,  good,  good ! 

My  lectle  lady  has  zen  a  lofing   heart.     She 

•  ike' peety  on  a  poor  vanderer." 

^lie  gave  the  child  an  earnest  look. 

1      "  Whatwould  you  of  me?"  asked 

'    I'.linor,  rather  frightened  by  the 

cep,  bright  eyes  fixed  upon  her. 

"  See,  now  —  ve  are  two  jjoor 

voyageurs,  my  man  and  I .  Ve  lose 

our  vay  in  ze  fields.  Zen  I  find  zees 

jjass.  Tell  me,  vare  do  it  lead  ?  " 

"  To  the  highway,  about  a  mile 
from  here." 

"  Ze  highvay  !  .\\\  \  't  ees  from 
zare  ve  come.  Ze  soldiers  —  ah! 
so  many,  so  fierce,  so  terril)le ! 
I  fear  me,  and  vc  hide.  My  man 
he  lie  in  yonder  field  and  vatch 
till  ze  road  be  clear.  Mais  moi. 
I  haf  so  grande  fear ;  I  hide  me 
licre  in  ze  foret.  \\\  I "  She  started 
violently  as  a  crashing  sounded 
in  the  underbrush. 

It  was  only  Fo.\  coming  liack 
from  a  squirrel  hunt.  The  bom  en- 
emy of  vagabonds,  the  dog  made  a 
barking  rush  at  the  ragged  figure. 
At  the  noise  a  small  head  was 
lifted  from  the  folds  of  the  wo- 
man's cloak. 
Oh,  let  me  seel"  cried    Klinor. 


.\   babv  ! 


a  burden  in  her  arms.     Her  hood  had  slipped 

back,  and  a  ma.ss  of  black  hair  fell  all  about    "Down,  Fox,  down!      Be   still,  sir!"  ; 

her  swarthy  face.    As  she  caught  sight  of  the    little  one  gave  a  sleepy,  whimpering  cry. 

99" 


the 


992 


ELINOR    ARDEN,    ROYALIST. 


[Sept. 


Now  Elinor  had  been  lialf  afraid  that  the 
dark,  bright-eyed  stranger  was  a  witch.  The 
sight  of  the  baby  reassured  her.  It  was  only  a 
gipsy  mother  with  her  child. 

"Helas!  He  ees  so  tired,  so  hungry  —  my 
poor  leetle  boy.  He  haf  journey  so  far,  and 
it  grow  late.  Ah,  vara  shall  my  bebe  sleep 
to-night?"     She  sighed  wearily  as  she  gently 


"  SHE    HURRIED   BACK   AND   GUIDED   THE   LITTLE   PARTY   TO    THE 
HIDING-PLACE."       (SEE    PAGE  995.) 

rocked  the  child  to  and  fro  in  her  arms.  "  But 
zese  soldiers — hovvcome  zey  here?  You  know?" 
"  Some  prisoners  escaped,"  Elinor  explained, 
"  and  the  soldiers  were  hunting  them  away 
down  to  Dover.  But  two  of  them  they  could 
not  catch.  They  were  Royalists,  too,  and  I  war- 
rant the  soldiers  are  mad  with  rage  about  it. 
Oh,  I  hope  the  poor  souls  are  safe  !  " 


"  Ah,  true.     Mademoiselle  ees  Royaleest!    I 
know  it  from  her  song." 

"  Ay,  I  'm  for  King  Charles  —  I  care  not 
who  knows  that,"  said  Elinor,  with  a  proud 
litrie  toss  of  her  head.  "  But  all  at  home  are 
Roundheads.  Those  soldiers  are  mine  uncle's 
own  men.  They  were  supping  at  our  house 
but  now.  I  trow  they  'd  take  me  prisoner,  too, 
if  they  heard  my  song !  "  and 
she  laughed  mischievously. 

The  woman  smiled  and 
nodded,  as  if  she  quite  un- 
derstood. Then,  seating  her- 
self on  a  stone,  she  drew  Eli- 
nor to  her. 

"  Voila,  ma  petite.  My 
man  and  I,  we  are  sair- 
vants  to  a  grande  dame  —  a 
great  lady.  Our  meestress 
ees  a  Royaleest,  too.  Ah, 
poor  lady,  how  she  has  suf- 
fered in  zees  cruelle  var !  She 
ees  gone,  my  meestress,  on  a 
journey,  far,  far  avay.  And  I 
—  I  go  to  seek  her.  Helas  ! 
'T  ees  a  long,  long  vay  !  " 

She  looked  sadly  down  at 
the  child  on  her  lap.     The 
baby,  who  had  wakened  rosy 
and  smihng,  was  now  mak- 
ing friendly  advances  to  Fox, 
holding  out  both  chubby  lit- 
tle  hands,   with  no   thought 
of  fear.     Fox,  sensible  dog 
that  he  was,  seemed  to  real- 
ize that  his  mistress's  friends 
ought  not  to  be  his  enemies. 
His  growl  gradually  subsid- 
ed, his  tail  began  to  wag,  at 
first    uncertainly,   then    very 
hard;    and   finally,  lifting   a 
moist  black  nose  to  the  small 
face,  he  offered  a  kiss  of  peace  with  his  soft  red 
tongue.     Dimpled  cheeks  covered  with  berry- 
stains,  big  dark  eyes  shining  out  through  a  tan- 
gle of  brown  curls  —  a  real  litde  gipsy  was  this 
merry  two-year-old.     Cooing  with  delight,  the 
baby  clasped  its  new  play-fellow  fondly  round 
the  neck,  and  Fox,  having  learned  that  the  more 
one  was  throttled  the  more  one  ■  -as  also  loved, 


fh 


<:^ 


>904l 


ELINOR    ARDEN,    ROVAI.IST. 


993 


submitted  in  the  friendliest  way.  Elinor  was 
soon  down  on  her  knees  beside  the  laughing 
child,  playing  with  the  silky  curls,  and  calling 
baby  a  dozen  loving  pet  names. 

Suddenly  the  great,  dark  eyes  looked  up  at 
her,  and  the  little  one  lisped, "  No,  no.  P'incess ! 
P'incess !  " 

"  Ay,  Pierre,"  said  the  mother.  "  My  leetle 
boy's  name  ees  Pierre." 

"  No,  no  —  no  boy.  P'i>iass .'  PHncess .' "  and 
the  little  face  began  to  pucker. 

The  woman  laughed.  "  Ay  and  no,  't  ees  all 
\un  to  my  bebe.  Mais  oui,  Pierre.  Here  in 
Eengleesh  zey  call  heem  Peter." 

The  child  looked  with  baby  gravity  at  the 
two  faces.  Then,  doubling  up  a  dimpled  fist. 
It  patted  its  ragged  frock  with  a  still  more  em- 
phatic "  No,  no  —  P'incess  '     Do  'way  !  " 

"  What  does  he  mean  ?  "  asked  Elinor. 

Laughing  again,  the  mother  pressed  the  baby 
close  in  her  arms,  kissing  it  again  and  again. 

•'  Pauvre  petit,  he  know  not  how  to  say  he 
vish  hees  supper.  Ah,  how  late  it  grow  !  "  She 
glanced  at  the  lengthening  shadows. 

Elinor  started.  "  Good  lack  1  What  will 
-Vunt  Hester  say  ?  I  must  go  home  at  once ; 
indeed  I  must." 

"  No,  no  ;  leaf  us  not  yet,  I  pray.  Stay  —  ve 
know  not  vare  to  seek  shelter  zees  night." 

Elinor,  who  had  shrunk  at  the  first  sight  of 
the  woman's  forlorn,  misshapen  figure,  was  now 
looking  at  her  in  wonder.  The  cloak  had  fallen 
back,  showing  more  jjlainly  the  tattered  dress 
and  the  poor,  deformed  shoulder.  Yet  in  the 
dark  face  there  lay  a  strange  beauty.  When 
she  spoke,  her  voice  was  low  and  sweet ;  and 
when  she  smiled,  her  eyes  grew  deep  and  soft 
and  full  of  light. 

"  Tell  me,  are  zare  no  Royaleests,  like  my 
leetle  lady  here,  zat  vould  shelter  us  till  ze 
morning  ?  " 

Elinor  shook  her  head.  "  No  ;  the  whole 
town  is  rebel.  Let  me  see  —  you  could  come 
to  us  when  the  soldiers  are  gone.  .\unt  Hester 
might  take  you  in,  only  she  cannot  abide  French 
folk.  She  says  they  bow  the  knee  to  Baal. 
Some  of  the  village  folk  might  —  no,  there  are 
the  soldiers  again  !     If  you  fear  them  so — " 

"  .\y,  zat  I  do  !  " 

"  They  '11  be  at  the  inn  to-night ;  you  'd 
Vol.  XXXI.— 125. 


surely  meet  them.  Stay !  There  's  Martha 
Rose  —  she  's  nigh  here.     If  I  coa.xed  her — " 

"Non,  non!  I  dare  not.  Beggars  find  a  cold 
velcome.  Voili !  zat  black-visage  leader — 't  ees 
heem  I  fear.  He  lead  hees  men  from  door  to 
door,  and  demande  alvay,  '  Came  zare  no  voya- 
geurs  zees  vay  ?  '  Eh  bien  !  zay  point  us  out, 
and  he  take  not  our  vord  zat  ve  are  innocent. 
No,  I  trust  not  ze  enemy's  mercy."  She  rose. 
"  If  zare  be  no  more  loyal  hearts  like  you, 
mademoiselle,  I  go  my  vay.  Adieu,  my  kind 
leetle  lady.  Ah,  but  how  can  I  ?  So  foot- 
sore, so  fatigue !  I  travel  since  early  morning 
—  I  carry  Pierre  on  my  back.  I  can  no  more !  " 
She  sank  down  again  as  if  faint  with  weariness. 

Baby,  too,  seemed  to  feel  that  something  was 
wrong,  and  began  to  fret  in  a  tired  way.  Elinor 
stood  silent,  frowning  thoughtfully.  The  fanciful 
little  girl  had  often  played  at  hiding  a  Royalist 
coming  to  her  for  protection.  But  the  fugitive 
was  always  a  gallant  Cavalier,  usually  an  earl, 
who  vowed  to  wed  his  fair  rescuer  when  the 
king  should  return  to  his  own.  And  yet,  would 
she  not  be  proving  her  loyalty  even  by  helping 
two  faithful  servants  on  their  weary  way  ? 

"  I  have  it ! "  she  cried  at  last,  clapping  her 
hands.  "  'T  is  the  very  place !  I  always  hid 
him  there — the  earl,  I  mean.  Oh,  never  mind  I " 
as  she  saw  the  woman's  look  of  amazement, "'  it 
was  only  play.  Come,  we  must  make  haste,  or 
-Aunt  Hester  will  guess  there  's  something  ami.ss. 
I  '11  tell  you  about  it  as  we  go." 

The  traveler's  hesitation  yielded  to  Elinor's 
earnestness,  and  she  followed  her  guide  along 
the  brookside  path.  They  had  not  gone  far 
when  a  bird-like  whistle  sounded  through  the 
trees.  The  woman  stopped,  listened,  and  ])ut- 
ting  her  hand  to  her  mouth,  answered  with  a 
long,  cooing  note. 

"  'T  is  Fran9ois's  call,"  she  explained. 

The  next  moment  the  bushes  on  the  other 
side  of  the  brook  were  parted,  and  a  dark  figure 
appeared  on  the  opposite  bank.  After  an  ex- 
change of  signals,  he  came  to  them  across  the 
stepping-stones  in  the  bed  of  the  stream.  It 
was  fortunate  that  no  spies  were  lurking  near 
by,  for  a  third  vagabond  was  too  much  for  Fox's 
feelings  as  a  watch-dog  of  honor,  and  it  was 
some  minutes  before  his  furious  barking  could 
be  quieted.    At  first  Francois  evidently  regarded 


994 


ELINOR    ARDEN,   ROYALIST. 


[Sept. 


Elinor  with  some  distrust;  but  a  few  words  in 
French  from  his  companion  seeming  to  reassure 
him,  the  party  went  on  its  way  along  the  wind- 
ing path,  crossing  the  brook  on  a  narrow  foot- 
bridge, and  finally  leaving  the  grove  for  the 
0[)en  meadow.  Before  them  rose  a  gently 
sloping  hill,  on  the  crest  of  which  were  the  clus- 
tered buildings  of  Bradford  Grange.  This  sight 
seemed  to  startle  the  travelers,  and  the  woman 
turned  with  anxious  eyes  to  Elinor,  who  has- 
tened to  explain  her  ]jlan. 

Chapter  IV. 

A    REFUGE. 

The  history  of  the  Grange  was  a  varied  one. 
Hundreds  of  years  before,  a  small  chapel  had 
been  built  on  the  sum- 
mit of  the  hill.  Close 
to  this  a  priory  had 
afterward  risen,  which 
continued  to  be  the 
home  of  a  brother- 
hood of  monks  until 
•  the  days  of  the  Ref- 
ormation. Then,  like 
countless  other  mon- 
asteries, it  had  been 
ravaged,  its  inmates 
scattered,  and  the 
beautiful  building, 
now  half  ruined,  had 
been  given  with  the 
adjoining  lands  to  a 
favorite  courtier  of 
King  Henry.  From 
the  hands  of  this  spendthrift  nobleman  it  had 
passed  into  those  of  Sir  Nicholas  Bradford,  an 
ancestor  of  the  colonel.  The  ancient  priory  was 
then  transformed  into  a  comfortable  manor- 
house,  surrounded  by  a  group  of  farm-build- 
ings. A  large  part  of  the  cloister  had  been  torn 
down,  and  the  stones  ^ve^e  used  for  construct- 
ing new  sheds  and  storehouses. 

When  the  young  squire,  Richard  Bradford, 
became  a  convert  to  Puritan  doctrines,  the 
place  was  still  further  changed  in  appearance. 
Except  for  the  massive  pillars  here  and  there  sup- 
porting a  stately  arch,  one  would  hardly  have 
imagined  that  the  bams  and  stables  had  risen 


on  the  ruins  of  the  old  priory  church.  Not  a 
fragment  of  carving  or  stained  glass  was  left  to 
recall  to  Protestant  minds  the  place  of  worship 
of  former  days.  One  building  only  remained 
almost  unchanged.  This  was  the  oldest  of  all, 
the  chapel,  which  opened  into  what  had  once 
been  the  main  building  of  the  church.  Although 
no  sign  of  decoration  was  to  be  seen,  its  roof 
and  walls  were  still  standing.  In  winter  it  was 
used  as  a  shelter  for  the  sheep,  while  in  summer 
it  was  the  favorite  play-house  of  the  children  by 
day,  and  the  imagined  haunt  of  fairies,  ghosts, 
and  hobgoblins  by  night.  When  the  shadows 
fell,  Elinor  visited  it  only  in  fancy,  and  then  in 
company  with  her  fugitive  earl. 

Here  she  purposed  to  hide  the  wanderers. 

"  And  look  you,"  Elinor  said  to  the  anxious 
Frenchwoman,  when 
the  plan  had  been 
told,  "  the  soldiers 
would  never  think  of 
searching  our  land 
for   the    Royalists." 

They  had  crept 
cautiously  up  the  hill.  < 
ready  at  the  least 
alarm  to  sink  down 
behind  some  protect- 
ing bush  or  rock,  and 
were  now  in  the  or- 
chard on  the  slope  far- 
thest from  the  house. 

"  And  I  haf  nevair 
yet  ask  my  leetle 
lady's  name,"  the  wo- 
man   suddenly    said. 

"Elinor  —  Elinor  Arden.  I  know  not  what 
name  to  call  you  by,"  the  little  girl  added 
shyly. 

"Marie  —  call  me  juste  Marie.  Eh  bien  ! 
Mademoiselle  Eleenore,  poor  Marie  vill  nevair 
forget  ze  kindness  of  her  leetle  lady.  Ah,  if  she 
could  but  do  some  sairvice  m  return !  Ven  ve 
come  safe  out  of  zees  danger,  and  I  find  my 
meestress  again,  ah,  zen  I  tell  her  of  ze  loyal 
demoiselle  zat  stood  our  friend  in  ze  time  of 
need." 

It  was  decided  that,  while  the  others  waited 
in  the  orchard,  Elinor  should  go  forward  alone 
and  watch  for  an  opportunity  to  lead  them  to 


KI.INOR    ARDEX,   ROYALIST. 


995 


their  rcfuj^e.  Fmiling  both  garden  and  out- 
buildings deserted,  she  hurried  back  and  guitled 
the  little  party  to  the  hiding-place. 

At  the  eastern  end  of  the  farm-buildings  stood 
the  old  chapel.  Its  gray  stone  walls  were  cov- 
ered with  is'v,  its  unglazed  windows  half  hidden 
in  the  clustering  vines.  On  one  side  was  a 
small  doorway,  so  low  that  Fran9ois  had  to 
bend  his  head  as  he  entered.  Even  with  her 
companions  Elinor  could  not  help  sliivering  at 
the  gloom  within.  The  dense  blackness  of  the 
corners  made  her  feel  that  weird  objects  were 
really  lurking  there.  It  was  certainly  a  dreary 
shelter  for  the  night. 

"  Ah,  how  dark  it  is  !  "  Marie's  voice  shook 
a  little.  "  Yet  a  light  might  betray  us.  Ve  are 
really  safe  here  ?  " 

Fran9ois  meanwhile  was  investigating  the 
shadowy  nooks,  to  be  sure  that  no  one  lay  con- 
cealed. Baby  alone  was  untroubled,  having 
dropped  off  to  sleep. 

"  I  dare  not  wait  longer,"  said  Elinor,  at 
last;  "  but  tell  me  if  there  's  aught  you  need, 
and  I  '11  try  to  fetch  it  for  you  when  no  one  's 
watching." 

The  travelers  had  with  them  the  remains  of  a 
dinner  of  bread  and  cheese,  and  Fran9ois  had 
filled  a  flask  with  water  from  the  brook.  A  drink 
of  milk,  should  the  baby  wake  hungry,  was  all 
that  they  needed. 

'■  And  at  daybreak  to-morrow  I  '11  fetch  you 
some  breakfast,"  Elinor  promised. 

"  The  bon  Dicu  bless  my  leetle  lady,"  whis- 
pered Marie,  as  the  child  turned  to  go. 

A  heap  of  fresh  hay  had  been  thrown  on  the 
old  chancel  floor,  and  on  this  the  weary  woman 
now  lay  down,  with  the  sleeping  baby  nestled 
close  in  her  arms.  Frangois  stretched  himself 
in  the  doorway  to  guard  them  while  they  slept. 

Elinor  had  hoped  to  beg  a  cup  of  milk  from 
the  dairymaid,  but,  in  crossing  the  kitchen- 
yard,  she  was  spied  by  Rachel  from  an  upper 
window.  Rachel  must  have  called  the  news 
to  her  mother,  for  the  next  instant  Aunt  Hes- 
ter's head  appeared  at  another  window,  and  the 
truant  w^as  sternly  beckoned  indoors. 

"  Elinor  Arden,  what  doth  this  loitering 
mean?"  her  aunt  demanded.  "  Look  at  the 
clock  —  it  is  thy  bedtime  already!  Thou 
shouldst  have   been  in  nigh  to  an  hour  ago. 


Didst  not  come  by  the  road  ?  Ay,  I  thought 
so.  Playing  in  the  field !  Mayst  well  hang  thy 
head!  I  tell  thee,  child,  this  idling  must  cease 
once  and  for  all." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Elinor's  long  absence 
had  caused  Mistress  Bradford  some  qualms  of 
conscience  for  having  sent  her  niece  from 
home  while  the  enemy  might  still  be  abroad. 
Perhaps  this  increased  her  annoyance  when  the 
wanderer  returned.  Elinor  was  ordered  to  bed 
in  disgrace.  There  was  no  hope  of  escape,  for 
she  shared  her  cousins'  room,  and  Aunt  Hester 
followed  her  to  tuck  the  little  sisters  into  bed 
for  the  night. 

Soon  after  she  had  left,  tlic  door  was  opened 
softly,  and  Miriam  stole  into  the  room.  Dear, 
kind-hearted,  careless  Miriam  !  She  had  her 
own  difficulties  under  Aunt  Hester's  iron  rule, 
and  was  apt  to  look  upon  Elinor  as  a  comrade 
in  misfortune. 

'•I  meant  not  to  be  naughty  —  really  and 
truly,"  whispered  Elinor,  as  Miriam,  gue.ssing 
that  something  was  wrong,  put  a  comforting 
arm  about  her.  "  And  I  'm  so  tired,  and  oh, 
so  hungry !  for  I  went  off  without  my  supper." 

"  Dear  heart  alive  !  Ve  poor,  starved  lamb! 
Wait  a  bit,  and  I  '11  fetch  ye  your  supper." 

"  Oh,  do,  dear  Miriam,  pray.  And  a  sup  of 
milk  —  most  of  all  I  'd  like  some  milk." 

First  making  sure  that  Rachel  and  Elizabeth 
were  sound  asleep,  Miriam  slipped  away,  and  in 
a  few  minutes  returned  with  her  hands  full. 

"  'T  is  what  was  left  of  the  soldiers'  sup]jer.  I 
had  scarce  time  to  snatch  it  up  ere  the  mistress 
came,"  she  explained  in  a  delighted  whisper, 
setting  down  a  generous  piece  of  pasty,  the  re- 
mains of  a  loaf,  and  a  cup  of  milk. 

Elinor  hugged  her  gratefully.  There  would 
now  be  no  need  of  an  early  morning's  raid  on 
the  larder,  with  a  troubled  conscience  after- 
ward. She  would  eat  only  a  part  of  the  bread, 
and  then,  when  all  the  household  was  asleep, 
she  would  carry  the  rest  of  the  food  to  her 
friends  in  the  chapel.  The  long  summer  twilight 
was  fast  fading,  and  it  took  all  her  courage  to 
think  of  crossing  the  deserted  courtyard.  She 
was  more  than  ever  convinced  that  the  chapel 
was  ghost-haunted. 

"  I  must !  "  she  told  herself.  ' "  I  must !  But 
oh,  I  wish  he  were  there  instead  !  "     She  was 


996 


ELIXOR    ARDEX,   ROYALIST. 


[Sept. 


thinking  of  the  earl  —  he  would  have  protected 
her. 

Her  small  share  of  the  supper  was  soon  eaten. 
It  would  still  be  a  long  time  before  she  could 
venture  out.  How  tired  she  was,  and  how 
heavy  her  eyelids  felt !  She  threw  herself  on 
her  bed  to  wait  until  all  was  silent. 

The  next  minute — surely  it  was  the  next 
minute — Elinor  started  up,  rubbing  her  eyes 
in  bewilderment,  as  a  pale  pink  light  shone 
across  her  face.  She  turned  to  the  window. 
The  eastern  sky  was  all  aglow.  It  was  morn- 
ing. Still  half  dazed  with  sleep,  she  stared 
about  the  room.  There,  on  a  chair  by  the  bed- 
side, the  last  night's  supper  was  laid.  She 
looked  penitently  at  the  cup  of  milk  as  she 
thought  of  the  poor  baby  waking  hungry  in 
the  night.  Maids  and  farming-men  were 
already  about  their  morning's  work,  and  it 
would  be  no  easy  matter  to  carry  the  provisions 
unnoticed ;  yet  she  must  do  her  best  to  make 
good  the  lost  time,  .\fter  a  little  thought  she 
went  softly  to  her  cousins'  bedside,  and  assured 
herself  that  they  were  still  fast  asleep ;  then  she 
took  from  the  cupboard  her  long,  brown, 
woolen  cloak.  Wrapped  in  this,  she  was  cov- 
ered from  her  neck  to  her  ankles.  Next,  she 
tucked  the  remains  of  the  bread  under  her  arm, 
and,  with  the  plate  of  meat-pasty  held  tightly 
in  one  hand,  and  the  cup  in  the  other,  she  stole 
out  of  the  room. 

Chapter  V. 

WHAT    THE    MORNING    REVEALED. 

It  seemed  as  if  the  mowers  would  never  go 
off  to  the  fields,  nor  the  cows  be  driven  to  the 
milking-shed;  but  at  last  the  way  was  clear,  and 
undisturbed  she  reached  the  chapel.  Baby 
was  evidently  demanding  breakfast,  for  she 
heard  the  sound  of  smothered  crying  as  she 
passed  beneath  the  chancel  window.  No  one 
answered  her  soft  knock,  and  slowly  and  cau- 
tiously she  pushed  the  door  open,  fearing  to 
startle  her  friend ;  but  even  the  grating  of  the 
rusty  hinge  seemed  unnoticed  through  the 
wailing  of  the  hungry  child.  Francois,  she 
saw,  was  no  longer  on  guard.  She  stepped 
inside,  looked,  and  stood  in  silent  wonder. 
Marie  was  kneeling  beside  the  bed  of  hay,  her 


arms  clasped  round  the  little  one ;  and  the 
early  sunlight,  flooding  the  chancel  window, 
shone  like  a  halo  about  her  head.  Was  this 
the  same  poor,  hunchbacked  wanderer  ?  Her 
face,  bent  close  to  the  child's,  was  hidden  by 
her  dark,  falling  hair;  her  kerchief  had  been  re- 
moved and  her  bodice  loosened  for  her  night's 
rest,  leaving  bare  a  white  neck  and  shoulder; 
and  what  had  been  the  hump — a  bundle  of 
rags  —  now  hung  at  her  side! 

The  baby's  sobbing  ceased  for  a  moment, 
and  through  the  stillness  Marie's  voice  came  in 
gentle,  cooing  tones.  "  Hush,  darling,  hush ! 
Fret  not  so.  Ay,  thou  shall  soon  be  a  princess 
again." 

"  Princess !  "  Did  Elinor  herself  repeat  the 
word  ?  Perhaps  —  for  the  woman  turned  with 
a  startled  look,  and  rose  in  haste  to  her  feet. 
Straight  and  tall  and  queenly  she  stood,  with 
the  morning  brightness  all  around  her.  Elinor 
gazed  at  her  as  one  in  a  strange  day-dream,  for 
the  majesty  of  that  height  and  bearing  was  all 
the  more  wonderful  in  contrast  with  the  forlorn 
and  tattered  dress;  and,  although  some  art 
had  stained  that  cheek  and  forehead  brown, 
the  throat  beneath  was  white  as  pearl. 

"  The  milk  —  I  have  it.  I  'm  so  sorry  —  the 
supper — last  night  —  I  could  not  help  it !  Oh, 
what  —  who  are  you?"  stammered  poor  Eli- 
nor, almost  believing  that  her  fairy  godmother 
had  appeared. 

"  How  camest  thou,  child  ?  I  heard  thee 
not!  The  door  —  is  it  fast?"  It  was  no 
longer  the  Frenchwoman  who  spoke.  "  Ah  !  " 
She  glanced  at  her  shoulder,  from  which  the 
bundle  of  rags  had  slipped. 

"  Princess  !  "  was  all  Elinor  could  say. 

"  P'incess  !  P'incess  I  "  piped  the  baby  voice. 

"  Here  is  thy  breakfast  at  last,"  said  the 
woman,  hastily,  as  the  provisions  were  brought 
out  from  under  Elinor's  long  cloak.  "  Come, 
give  it  him  at  once,"  she  commanded,  taking 
the  child  in  her  arms. 

When  baby  was  quite  happy  over  the  bread 
and  milk,  Marie  drew  Elinor  down  beside  her 
on  the  chancel  step.  After  hearing  how  the 
weary  little  girl  had  fallen  asleep  against  her 
will,  and  how  she  had  that  morning  escaped, — 
"  I  see  thou  art  to  be  trusted,  my  little  faith- 
ful," she  said.     "  Now  harken,  but  speak  low. 


190<  ) 


ELINOR    ARDEN,   ROYALIST. 


997 


Art  sure  no  one  is  nigh  ?  Thou  seest  I  am 
not  what  I  seemed  last  night.  Nath'less,  re- 
member this  :  while  danger  lasts,  to  you  and  to 
all  I  am  Marie,  and  the  child  is  Pierre." 

She  lifted  Elinor's  face  in  her  hands,  and 
looked  earnestly  into  the  frank  blue  eyes. 

"  Ask  me  no  questions,  but  remember  this : 
if  thou  standest  faithful  to  us,  and  keepst  our 
secret  well,  then  wilt  thou  most  truly  serve  thy 
king." 

The  little  Royalist's  heart  was  beating  very 
fast.  Just  then  some  playful  sunbeams  tangled 
themselves  in  baby's  curls,  encircling  the  child- 
head  with  a  crown  of  ruddy  gold.  It  came  to 
Elinor  with  a  joyful  thrill.  "  Pierre "  was  a 
princess  —  the  daughter  of  her  king !  She  had 
heard  the  story  of  the  fall  of  E.xeter,  and  of  the 
baby  princess,  whose  two  years  of  life  had  been 
passed  in  that  loyal  town,  and  who,  after  the 
surrender,  had  been  carried  away  to  a  palace 
guarded  by  the  rebel  soldiery.  This  was  all 
that  she  knew ;  yet  in  her  mind  there  was  not 
a  shade  of  doubt  —  her  tiny  guest  was  a  royal 
child.  In  one  instant  Elinor  was  on  her  knees 
before  the  little  one,  covering  the  dimpled 
hands  with  kisses. 

"Oh,  let  me  hold  thee  just  once!"  she 
pleaded.  "My  princess!  My  princess  I  "  She 
could  not  help  the  loving  whisper. 

Marie  smiled,  and  baby  seemed  to  under- 
stand, coming  to  her  at  once,  and  nestling  down 
contentedly  in  her  loyal  arms. 

It  was  now  time  for  Marie  to  think  of  her 
own  breakfast. 

When  Elinor  wondered  wiiy  Francois  was 
not  there  to  have  his  share,  she  was  told  that, 
while  all  was  yet  silent  about  the  Grange,  the 
faithful  servant  had  left  his  post  at  the  door  and 
gone  out  to  make  sure  that  it  was  safe  for  them 
10  continue  their  journey. 

While  Marie  was  making  ready  for  the  de- 
parture, Elinor  and  her  little  princess  had  a 
frolic  in  the  soft  hay.  They  heaped  last  night's 
bed  into  a  mountain,  and  baby,  climbing  to  the 
top,  lay  kicking  her  little  bare  pink  feet,  and 
crowing  merrily.  Suddenly  there  came  an  earth- 
quake, whereupon  her  Royal  Highness  and  the 
mountain  fell  over  together  in  a  heap.  And  as 
often  as  the  delighted  baby  wriggled  out  from 
under  the  mountain,  Elinor  buried  her  again 


up  to  her  chin,  until  nothing  could  be  seen 
but  the  rosy  face  and  blinking,  laughing  eyes. 
Ne.\t  it  was  Elinor's  turn,  and  baby  fell  upon 
her  with  a  triumphant  little  shout,  tossing  the 
hay  all  over  them  both.  Poor  Elinor's  curls 
were  now  mercilessly  pulled,  and  wisps  of  hay 
were  poked  into  her  mouth.  As  she  lay  there,' 
the  willing  slave  of  royalty,  she  could  feel  the 
small  teasing  fingers  creeping  softly  over  her 
neck. 

"  Oo-ooh  !  "  They  had  found  something 
hidden  under  a  white  kerchief,  and  now  baby 
spied  a  bit  of  the  crimson  ribbon  on  which  the 
buckle  was  hung.  One  sharp  tug,  and  out 
came  a  beautiful  toy,  surely  meant  for  the  prin- 
cess herself.  The  little  clinging  hands  would 
not  give  up  the  treasure,  and  Elinor,  to  avoid 
being  nearly  strangled,  was  forced  to  untie  the 
ribbon  from  her  throat. 

"  A  jewel !  "  cried  Marie,  turning,  as  Elinor 
was  showing  how  the  new  plaything  could 
sparkle  in  the  light.  "  How  didst  come  by  it? 
These  are  fair  gems,  truly !  They  can  be  no 
strict  Puritans  here,  if  thou  mayst  wear  such  a 
trinket." 

'■  'Tis  my  father's  keepsake.  He  said  when- 
ever I  looked  at  it  I  must  think  always  how  he 
loved  me."  .And  then  something  in  Marie's 
face  drew  from  the  girl  the  whole  story  of  her 
father  and  of  his  parting  gift. 

When  it  was  all  told,  the  lonely  feeling  that 
had  -SO  often  come  over  her  seemed  to  be  com- 
forted aw  ay,  for  she  felt  loving  arms  around  her 
and  tender  kisses  upon  her  cheek. 

All  too  soon  those  happy  moments  came  to 
an  end,  as  the  door  was  cautiously  opened  and 
Francois  apjjcared.  The  dark-faced,  wiry  little 
I""renchman  was  all  a-quiver  with  excitement 
over  the  news  which  he  brought. 

When  she  had  heard  his  report,  Marie  turned  to 
Elinor,  saying  hurriedly,  "  The  soldiers  are  rid- 
den away  westward,  nigh  the  whole  body  of 
them.  We  must  away  with  all  haste  while  the 
road  is  free,  for  two  at  least  are  left  behind,  and 
Fran9ois  fears  the  rest  may  still  return." 

Elinor  suddenly  felt  a  sense  of  sadness  and 
disappointment.  Here  was  a  chance  for  the 
fugitives  to  go  on  their  way  in  safety.  A  few- 
minutes  more  and  the  burden  of  their  wel- 
fare would  be  lifted  from  her  own  poor  little 


998 


ELINOR    ARDEN,    ROYALIST. 


[Sett. 


shoulders.  It  would  break  her  heart  if  harm 
should  come  to  them;  and  yet  —  she  was 
ashamed  to  own  it  to  herself — she  wished  the 
soldiers  had  not  gone  so  soon.  She  had  found 
friends,  and  longed  to  have  them  stay.  The 
lonely  feeling  came  again,  a  homesickness  that 
made  her  heart  ache. 

She  was  a  fanciful  child,  who  often  roamed  in 
a  dream-world  of  her  own,  far  away  from  the 
matter-of-fact  people  about  her.  Forgetful  of 
her  tasks  and  errands,  she  would  join  the  fairies 
in  their  midnight  revels  on  the  green,  or  sail  in 
a  phantom  ship  over  the  sea  to  lands  unknown 
and  wonderful ;  again,  'in  robes  of  state,  visit 
royal  palaces ;  or  even,  in  these  troubled  days, 
picture  herself  as  no  longer  a  little  maiden,  but 
a  noble  Cavalier  winning  the  victory  for  the 
king.  No  one  understood  the  dreamy  little 
girl.  She  had  tried  in  vain  to  make  her  cousins 
"  see  things  "  as  she  did ;  and,  had  Aunt  Hester 
guessed  her  niece's  thoughts,  they  would  have 
displeased  her  quite  as  much  as  mere  wilful 
idleness.  Now  her  whole  heart  went  out  to 
this  new-found  friend,  who  was  more  beautiful, 
more  kind  and  gentle,  than  any  heroine  of  her 
fancy,  and  to  her  "  own  little  princess,"  as  in 
her  thoughts  she  would  always  love  to  say. 
They  were  going  far  away,  and  what  chance 
was  there  that  Elinor  Arden  would  ever  see  such 
friends  as  these  again  ?  She  felt  a  sudden  long, 
ing  to  share  their  wanderings  with  them. 

"  What  is  't,  my  child  ?  Art  so  fearful  for 
us?"  asked  Marie,  noticing  the  troubled  face. 

"You  go  so  soon,"  sighed  Elinor.  "Oh!" 
she  burst  out,  her  lip  quivering,  "  shall  I  ever 
see  you  again  ?  " 

"  Dear  heart,"  answered  Marie,  bending  once 
more  to  kiss  her,  while  the  girl's  arms  went  lov- 
ingly round  her  neck.  "  Heaven  grant  we 
may  indeed  all  meet  again  in  happier  times! 
And  then" — she  looked  toward  baby  with  a 
smile  —  "  may  this  little  one  thank  thee  for  thy 
trusty  service." 

Now  everything  was  ready  for  the  journey, 
and  only  the  princess  was  unprepared  to  go. 
She  knew  the  meaning  of  that  hump  and  cloak, 
and  Marie,  coming  to  take  her,  was  met  with  a 
most  determined  "  No,  no,  no  !  —  do  'way  !  " 

What !  Leave  this  best  of  playgrounds,  and 
the  new  friend,  who  brought  one  bread   and 


milk  when  one  was  hungry,  and  wore  beau- 
tiful toys  around  her  neck,  only  to  spend  an- 
other long  day  at  that  exceedingly  tiresome 
game  of  beggar  child  ?  It  was  not  to  be 
thought  of.  But  Marie  was  in  haste  to  be  off, 
particularly  as  just  then  the  sound  of  voices 
warned  them  that  the  men  had  returned  to  the 
stable.  Baby  was  caught  up  against  her  will, 
and,  to  add  to  her  woes,  found  that  the  new 
plaything — that  shining  buckle — was,  after  all, 
not  her  own.  Elinor  had  amused  the  little  one 
by  tying  the  gay  ribbon  about  her  neck.  As 
Marie  now  removed  it  to  give  it  back,  baby 
stretched  her  eager  little  hands  for  the  jewel, 
and,  finding  it  out  of  reach,  broke  into  a  wail 
of  disappointment.  What  should  her  guardian 
do  ?  Each  moment  the  crying  might  betray 
them.  But  the  sobs  changed  to  a  soft  gurgle,  and 
a  smile  came  through  the  tears,  as  Elinor  hung 
her  keepsake  once  more  about  the  baby's  neck. 

"  I  '11  go  with  you  in  the  fields  a  little  way," 
she  said,  "  and  weave  her  a  daisy  chain ;  then 
she  '11  not  cry  if  I  take  the  buckle." 

Marie  hid  the  jewel  among  the  tatters  of 
baby's  frock.  Then  she  told  Elinor  to  go  out 
as  noiselessly  as  possible,  and  see  whether  or 
not  they  might  safely  venture  on  their  way. 

Chapter  VI. 

SPIES. 

No  one  was  to  be  seen  about  the  chapel. 
The  farm-hands  were  at  work  in  a  distant  field, 
and  the  cattle  had  been  driven  from  the  milk- 
ing-shed.  Turning  toward  the  house,  Elinor 
stepped  out  from  behind  the  stable  wall,  and 
then  stopped  in  dismay,  for  the  two  little  sisters, 
hand  in  hand,  were  tripping  across  the  green- 
sward. It  was  too  late  to  run  away,  for  at  that 
moment  she  was  seen.  Two  pairs  of  eyes  grew 
very  round,  and  two  little  mouths  formed  them- 
selves into  two  astonished  "  ohs!  " 

"  Nell,  Nell  — oh,  Nelly  !  What  is  it?"  they 
panted,  both  in  one  breath,  as  they  ran  to  join 
their  cousin.  "  Why  are  you  out  so  early  ?  Is 
it  a  secret  ?     Oh,  Nell,  lio  tell  us  !  " 

"  We  've  found  you  out !  We  've  found  you 
out!"  cried  Bess,  prancing  with  triumphant  glee. 

"  I  know  it  's  a  secret,  and  we  '11  not  let  you 
go  till  you  tell  us,"  added  Rachel. 


■9^- 1 


ELINOR    ARDKX,    ROYALIST. 


999 


Then  Hess  put  in :  "I  woke  up  first  and 
found  you  gone,  and  I  told  Rachel,  and  we 
dressed,  and  —  " 

"  Bess  !  Rachel !  Go  back  !  It  's  too  early," 
was  all  poor  Klinor  could  say. 

"  Oh-o-oh  !  "  Rachel  gave  a  little  shriek. 
"  Why,  Elinor  Arden  !  look  at  your  frock  !  " 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  Elinor  glanced  at 
her  skirt.  All  down  the  front  were  stains  and 
splashes  of  rich  brown  gravy  from  that  juicy 
meat-pasty. 

"  And  your  hair  —  it  's  all  full  of  hay  !  " 

"  Well,  what  if  it  is  ?  Yours  is  in  a  pretty 
snarl,  I  can  tell  you !  And  your  frocks  are  all 
awry.     Best  go  back  at  once — please  go." 


^ 


"  1  'm  not  a  telltale  !  And  1  '11  tell  mother !  " 
whined  Rachel,  almost  in  tears. 

Elinor's  temper  had  gotten  the  better  of  her ; 
now  she  saw  her  mistake.  "  I  meant  not  to 
vex  you,  Rachel  dear,"  she  said.  "  Only,"  she 
could  not  help  adding,  "/'d  never  go  creeping 
after  jw/  like  a  pussy-cat !  " 
"And  /'d  never  be  scselfish  —  "  Rachel  began. 

"  Hark!  I  hear  Miriam.  She  's  calling  you." 
And  Elinor  tried  to  push  her  cousins  toward 
the  house. 

"  We  care  not,"  said  Rachel.  "  If  she  wish 
us,  she  can  come  and  fetch  us.  You  're  just 
trying  to  be  rid  of  us,  but  we  '11  not  stir  a  step 
—  so  there  !     Ah,  Nell !     Do  tell  us." 


l^ 


■  .VELI.,    NELL — OH,    NKLLV!      WHAT    IS    IT?       THEV    PANTED,    BOTH    IN    ONE    BREATH. 


"  Nay,  that  will  we  not  —  not  till  you  tell  us 
the  secret !     Oh,  Nell,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  I  '11  not  tell  you  a  word  —  not 
when  you  come  sneaking  and  spying  after  me 
so !     'T  was  not  fair  play  !  " 

"  'T  is  not  fair  play  keeping  secrets  all  to 
yourself!  "  retorted  Rachel.  "  We  've  as  much 
right  to  know  as  you  —  so  now!  You  're  a 
real  crosspatch,  Elinor  Arden  !  " 

"  I  'm  not  a  crosspatch,  nor  a  telltale,  either, 
like  some  folks  I  might  mention  !  " 


K  helpless  feeling  came  over  her  now  —  the 
struggle  to  escape,  with  the  sense  that  she  was 
bound  fast  to  the  spot,  while  knowing  that 
every  moment  was  precious  to  the  fugitives. 

"  Rachel,  Bess,  listen  !  "  She  laid  a  hand 
on  a  shoulder  of  each  cousin,  and  her  voice 
became  pleading.  "  I  'd  tell  you  if  I  could  — 
really  and  truly;  but  I  can't,  because  —  because 
I  can't — not  now.  But  if  you  '11  stop  teasmg, 
I  '11  promise  to  tell  you  by  and  by." 

"  By  and  by  !    When  you  've  kept  all  the  fun 


lOOO 


ELINOR    ARDEN,    ROYALIST. 


to  yourself —  crabbed  old  thing!"  And  Rachel 
petulantly  shook  free  her  shoulder. 

"  Nay,  then;  if  you  will  have  it,  go  to  the 
hay-loft  and  look  for  it,"  cried  the  artful  Ehnor. 

Elizabeth  turned  at  once,  pulling  her  sister 
by  the  hand ;  but  Rachel  hung  back.  "  I  don't 
believe  it  's  there  at  all,"  she  said.  "  You  did 
not  come  from  there.  I  know !  it  's  in  the 
sheep-cote.     Come,  Bess." 

But  Elinor  blocked  the  way.  "  Stay  !  Oh, 
do  stop !  See  now,  I  '11  tell  you  what  I  '11  do. 
If  you  '11  be  good,  and  not  go  peeping  and  pry- 
ing and  tale-tattling,  I  '11  —  I  'II — I  know! 
I  '11  save  you  both  my  honey-cake,  every  day 
at  supper,  for  as  long  as  you  will." 

Rachel  wrinkled  up  her  little  nose  disdain- 
fully. 

"And  next  time  we  have  plum-tart,  I  '11  give 
you  my  share.     Come  !  " 

"Plum-tart!"  cried  Elizabeth.  "Oh,  Nell! 
May  n't  we  have  that  every  time,  too  ?  " 

"Ay,  so  long  as  you  keep  your  word  and 
tell  nobody." 

"  You  promise  to  tell  soon  ?  "  asked  Rachel. 

"  I  '11  tell  you  sometime  —  as  soon  as  I 
may.  And  you  know  I  keep  my  promises. 
Come,  that  's  my  honey-sweet  coz !  " 

Elizabeth's  heart  was  melting  at  the  thought 
of  cakes  and  tarts,  but  the  older  sister  shook 
her  head. 

"  And  I  '11  tell  you  a  fairy-tale  every  night, 
when  we  're  abed !  " 

"  Mother  says  't  is  wrong  listening  to  idle 
tales,"  was  Rachel's  prim  response. 

"Then  why  d'  ye  always  harken  when  I  tell 
you  them  ?  " 

"  Nay,  Rachel;  just  one  fairy-tale  —  a  real 
long  one,  Nell,"  pleaded  Elizabeth. 

"  Good  lack  !  there  comes  Miriam  !  "  e.x- 
claimed  Elinor.  "  She  must  not  hear.  Oh,  be 
quick  !  say  you  will." 

"  Now  you  '11  be  fetched  in,  too."  Rachel 
brightened  at  the  thought.  "Um-m — we-e-e-11 
—  y-y-e-es  !  " 

Elinor  followed  up  the  \-ictory  with  a  kiss. 
"  Now  I  promise,  on  my  word  and  on  my 
honor,"  she  said ;  "  and  you  promise,  too." 

"  On  my  word  and  honor,"  chirped  Bess. 

( To  be  ct 


"  Word  an'  honor,"  mumbled  Rachel,  still 
rather  sulky. 

"  For  pity's  sake,  children,  what  make  ye 
out  here  at  this  hour  ?  "  was  Miriam's  greeting. 
"  Did  ye  not  hear  me  calling  ye,  high  and  low  ? 
I  feared  to  rouse  the  house.  The  like  o'  this 
I  ne'er  did  see.  Off  and  away  at  dawn,  the 
three  of  ye  —  and  all  as  wild  as  gipsies  !  What- 
ever hath  bewitched  ye  ?  And  the  sight  ye  are! 
Lackaday,  Mistress  Elinor,  if  ye  're  not  the 
sorriest  of  all!  Fie,  what  a  frock!  Come, 
dearies,  come !  Into  the  house,  quick,  ere  the 
mistress  find  ye." 

"  Nay,  prithee,  Miriam,  just  one  moment," 
begged  Elinor.  "Let  me  go  —  I  must!  I  '11 
be  back  directly." 

"  And  call  down  a  fresh  chiding  on  both  our 
heads  ?  I  trow  not !  Hark  ye,  Mistress  Eli- 
nor, dear.  Come  like  a  good  child,  and  let 
Miriam  comb  out  that  shameful  hair,  and  make 
ye  tidy, — 't  will  not  be  long, — and  then  ye  '11 
be  free  to  run  where  ye  will." 

There  was  no  help  for  it.  To  refuse  would 
only  rouse  Miriam's  suspicion,  and  Miriam,  she 
knew,  loved  gossip,  and  in  the  matter  of  secrets 
was  hardly  more  trustworthy  than  Rachel  or 
Bess.  Tlie  only  hope  was  to  escape  while  her 
cousins,  in  their  turn,  were  being  dressed  and 
could  not  steal  out  after  her.  So,  much  against 
her  will,  she  followed  the  others  into  the  house. 

Meanwhile  hints  of  the  secret  were  continu- 
ally slipping  out. 

"We'll  have  plum-tart!"  hummed  Elizabeth. 
•'  Plum-tart    and  honey-cake  !  " 

"  Hist,  Bess !  that 's  no  way  to  keep  a  secret," 
Rachel  warned  her  sister. 

And  poor  Elinor  was  glad  to  hide  her  burn- 
ing cheeks  in  her  shower  of  tumbled  curls. 

What  was  that  sudden  clamor  of  voices? 
Miriam  dropped  the  comb  and  hurried  to  the 
window,  and  Elinor  sprang  up  with  a  fast-beat- 
ing heart.  Men  and  maids  were  assembling 
on  the  greensward.  A  cry  escaped  her  as  she 
saw  in  the  midst  of  the  gathering  Frangois, 
Marie,  and  the  child,  guarded  between  two 
soldiers.  Hardly  knowing  what  she  did,  she 
darted  past  Miriam,  past  Aunt  Hester,  out  of 
doors,  and  up  to  the  edge  of  the  group. 

ttinued.^ 


THE    COl'XTY    l-AIR. 

(  The  descriptions  and  photographs  are  from  a  county /air  actually  arranged  by  girls  and  boys  last  year.) 


Bv  Joseph   Henkv  Adams. 


You  see,  it  started  in  this  way :  The  real  an- 
nual county  fair  was  held  in  September,  just 
before  the  boys  and  girls  went  back  to  school, 
and,  accompanied  by  their  parents,  they  attended 


THK     i  AIR     -    1  HI 


IN     A^i_l-N -I. 


articles,  as  well  as  selecting  the  "grounds"  and 
arranging  the  locations  for  the  various  attrac- 
tions. 

Fifty  tickets  were  issued,  and,  as  school  had 
begun  again,  the  entire  lot  was  sold  out  on 
Friday  preceding  the  first  fair  day.  but  that  did 
not  limit  the  attendance,  and  nearly  as  fast  as 
the  tickets  were  collected  they  were  resold  at 
the  gateway,  having  been  marked  to  show  how 
many  times  they  were  thus  resold.  They  were 
printed  on  stiff  cardboard,  with  a  rubber-type 
hand-press,  and  duly  signed  by  the  treasurer  to 
give  them  the  stamp  of  genuineness. 

Then  the  construction  of  the  "  catch-pen- 
nies" and  the  "free  shows  "  required  time,  so 
that  nearly  three  weeks  of  afternoon  labor  were 
devoted  to  the  work. 

It  was  decided  that  all  the  "attractions" 
should  be  well  made,  so  they  would  last  for 
another  season,  and  for  that  rea.son  care  was 
taken  to  make  each  article  as  strong  and  dura- 
ble as  possible. 

Two  o'clock  was  the  hour  at  which  the  gate- 
way was  to  be  thrown  open  to  the  wondering 
crowd;  and  at  which  time  it  was  announced 
that  there  was  to  be  a  balloon  ascension,  with 
others  to  follow,  and  that  parachutes  were  to 
drop  from  the  balloon  as  it  ascended. 

The  balloon  and  parachutes  were  ingeniously 
constructed  from  tissue-paper,  wire,  and  card- 
board. 

A  stiff  pajier  pattern  was  cut  for  the  balloon 
sections,  sixty-five  inches  long,  twelve  and  a 
half  inches  wide  near  the  top,  and  three  and  a 
half  inches  wide  at  the  bottom,  as  shown  in 
Fig.  I  (next  page).  F'rom  this  pattern  twelve 
pieces  of  colored    tissue-paper  were  cut   and 


the  fair  at  least  once,  some  of  them  twice,  and 
a  few  of  them  three  times,  and  even  then  they 
did  not  have  enough  of  it.    So  it  was  proposed 

by  some  of  the  older  boys  that  they  hold   a     pasted  together  at  the  edges,  care  being  taken  to 
county  fair  of  their  own.  use  only  a  very  small  ((uantity  of  paste,  that  the 

Of  course  there  was  a  great  deal  of  prelim-  whole  affair  should  be  as  ligjit  as  possible  in 
mary  work  to  be  done  in  the  way  of  printing  order  to  rise  quickly  and  carry  the  parachutes, 
tickets,  making  show-cards  and  price-marks  for        A  hoop  of  light  iron  wire  twelve  inches  in 

Vnl..    XXXI.  — 126-127.  lool 


I002 


THE    COrXTV    FAIR 


(Sept. 


diameter  was  made  for  the  bottom  of  the  balloon, 
and  braced  with  two  cross-wires  twenty  inches 
long,  at  the  ends  of  which  small  hooks  were 
bent  to  hold  the  parachutes.  Six  inches  above 
this  hoop  a  smaller  one,  three  inches  in  dia- 
meter, was  braced  with  wires,  and  two  or  three 
fine  wires  were  drawn  across  this  hoop  to  form 


the  men,  both  of  which  were  cut  from  a  single 
piece  of  cardboard  and  painted. 

Four  of  these  parachutes  were  hung  on  the 
projecting  hooks  at  the  bottom  of  the  balloon 
by  means  of  cotton-thread  loops,  and  were  re- 
leased by  waxed-string  fuses  which  the  bovs 
lighted  just  before  the  balloon  was  released- 


DIAGRAM    OF   DETAILS. 


a  basket  in  which  a  cotton  wad  rested,  as  shown 
in  Fig.  2. 

The  cotton  was  saturated  with  wood  alcohol, 
and  after  the  balloon  had  been  inflated  with  hot 
air,  the  waxed  string  hanging  down  from  the 
cotton  was  lighted,  and  the  fire  creeping  up 
the  string  ignited  the  alcohol  on  the  cotton  and 
made  a  fire  within  the  balloon,  which  kept  the 
air  heated  for  some  time  after  it  hail  been 
released. 

The  parachutes  were  of  tissue-paper  fifteen 
inches  in  diameter,  and  from  six  threads  were  sus- 
pended square  baskets  constructed  of  paper, 
in  which  two  little  cardboard  men  sat  opposite 
each  other  in  two  of  the  corners. 

Fig.  3  shows  one  of  the  baskets,  and  Fig.  4 


The  fuses  were  wound  round  a  piece  of  thin 
wire  attached  to  the  hook  wires  of  the  balloon, 
and,  being  of  four  different  lengths,  the  shortest 
one  released  its  parachute  first,  the  others  fol- 
lowing in  succession. 

A  hanging  and  a  released  parachute  are 
shown  in  Fig.  5,  where  A  gives  a  clear  idea 
how  to  fix  the  fuse  wire  and  hang  the  para- 
chutes on  the  hooks,  and  B  shows  the  descend- 
ing parachute. 

Located  conveniently  near  the  entrance  to 
the  grounds,  the  candy  and  cake  booth  was  pre- 
sided over  by  one  of  the  girls. 

Next  in  line  came  the  lemonade  and  peanut 
stand,  in  charge  of  another  of  the  bovs'  girl 
chums  —  a  popular  one  to  be  sure. 


>904l 


THE    COCXTV    FAIR. 


I005 


"  Sambo,"  with  a  fierce  expression,  was  a  favor- 
ite attraction.  He  was  strapped  to  a  clotlies- 
post,  where  he  presented  his  face  to  the  specta- 
tors, who,  for  one  cent,  could  have  five  shots  at 


1 

1 

^•^AMBO'      --. 

BRtAMNfpipE.         ^ 
^"ttrAPKI/t 

ft 

t 

HI 

^^r              V'       ^^^1 

^^1 

ik  1 

^H 

"sambo" "FIVE    SHOTS    rOK    0\K    iKNT!" 

him  from  a  distance  of  five  or  six  yards,  to 
break,  if  possible,  the  clay  pipe  in  his  mouth. 

The  one  who  successfully  performed  the  feat 
with  a  solid  rubber  ball  provided  for  this  pur- 
pose, and  at  the  proper  distance  from  the  pole, 
was  given  a  ticket  for  one  cent's  worth  of 
entertainment  or  refreshments. 

Sambo  had  a  thick  muslin  head  stutiled 
with  excelsior,  on  top  of  w-hich  an  old  hat  was 
sewed  fast,  and  his  face  was  painted  with  water- 


colors  by  the  art  committee  of  the  fliir.  His 
body  was  composed  of  an  excelsior-stuffed 
coat  and  pair  of  old  trousers,  and  below  the 
trousers  nothing  was  required,  for  he  was  sup- 
ported by  the  straps  that  held  him  to  the  post. 

Sambo  had  to  be  remade  and  restuffed  be- 
fore each  fair  day,  as  the  terrible  pommelmg  he 
uas  subjected  to  by  the  more  muscular  boys 
twisted  him  all  out  of  shape. 

At  one  side  of  the  fair  grounds  "  Divo  "  was 
ready  to  loop  the  loop  in  an  automobile. 
Divo  was  a  cardboard  monkey  in  two  pieces 
glued  together,  and  his  arms  were  fastened  to 
the  steering-gear  of  the  scorching-machine  with 
tacks.  This  was  one  of  the  free  exhibitions  at  the 
fair  grounds,  and  was  liberally  patronized,  as  all 
free  shows  at  a  circus  generally  are.  The  peril- 
ous trip  was  made  on  an  average  of  every 
half-minute. 

The  chute  and  the  loop  were  made  —  on  a 
sixteen-foot  board  —  of  thin  strips,  a  cheese- 
box,  and  cardboard  cut  and  accurately  fitted, 
so  that  the  wheels  of  the  little  car  would 
not  run  off. 

The  loop  was  made  from  the  thin  side  of  a 
cheese-box,  sandpapered  smooth,  then  nailed 
to  the  long  board,  and  braced  with  wires  to 
hold  it  in  place.  The  hills  at  the  end  of  the 
slide  were  of  stout  cardboard  tacked  to  the 
hoard,  and  properly  braced  with  under-pins 
<  omposed  of  small  blocks  of  wood. 

The  road-bed  was  two  and  a  half  inches 
wide,  and  protected  at  each  side  by  a  stout 
cardboard  wall  half  an  inch  high,  which  held 
tlie  automobile  on  the  track.  The  long  chute 
had  walls  made  of  narrow  strips  of  wood  in 
place  of  cardboard,  which  were  stronger  for  that 
part  of  the  roail  on  which  the  car  traveled  the 
fastest.  The  cardboard  joints  in  the  wall  were 
carefully  made,  and  stri[)s  of  pajier  were  glued 
at  each  side  to  prevent  the  wheels  of  the  car 
from  catching  on  them. 

The  entire  road-bed  and  walls  were  given  a 
coat  of  shellac  to  jjrotect  them  against  moisture, 
and  also  to  strengthen  the  cardboard  parts  ;  and 
after  the  shellac  was  thoroughly  dry,  the  sur- 
face of  the  wood-and-cardboard  track — for  its 
entire  length — was  carefully  sgndpajiered. 

The  automobile  was  made  from  an  old  tin 
wagon  having  iron  wheels;  and  by  the  proper 


I004 


THE    COUNTY    FAIR. 


[Sept. 


use  of  wood,  strips  of  tin,  and  cardboard   the  One  of  the  star  attractions  was  the  "doll-rack." 

complete  car  and  monkey  were  made,  as  shown  Five  shots   for   a   cent   tempted   the  boy  who 

in  the  illustration.  prided  himself  on  being  a  line  shot,  but  the 

Under  the  car  and  midway  between  the  axles  marks  were  so  deceptive  or  the  aim   so  poor 

a  lump  of  lead  was  wired  fast.     This  was  neces-  that  frequently  a  small  boy's  five  shots  were 

sary  to  insure  the  complete  revolution  of  the  car,  more  successful  than  the  '■  dead  sure  "  aim  of 

for  if  it  was  not  fairly  heavy  it  might  not  turn  the  "  crack  "  pitcher  of  the  baseball  nine. 


over  and  come  out  of  the  loop  upon  tlie  track 
beyond. 

The  lead  weight  gave  the  car  momentum, 
and  consequently  more  force  to  hold  it  to  the 
track  as  it  turned  over  inside  the  circle. 

The  length  of  the  automobile  was  six  inches. 
The  steering-gear  (which  was  only  a  "  make 
believe"    one)   consisted    of  a    steel-wire   nail 


Two  dolls  down  gave  the  marksman  another 
five  shots  or  a  prize,  and  this  feature  kept  in 
business  until  the  closing  moment  of  the  fair. 

The  doll-rack  was  made  of  three  boards 
four  feet  long  and  six  inches  wide,  and  the  sides 
were  thirty  inches  high,  making  each  doll-com- 
partment fourteen  inches  high.  The  dolls  were 
made  of  paper  and  rags  bound  to  a  stick,  which 
in  turn  was  nailed  to  a  short  stick  that  acted  as 
a  base  or  foot.  This  base  was  hinged  to  the 
shelf,  so  when  hit  a  doll  would  fall  over  back- 
ward, and  could  easily  be  set  up  again,  but 
would  not  cause  others  to  fall  at  the  same  time. 
See  Fig.  6.) 

Attached  to  the  fence,  and  but  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  rack  of  dolls,  a  small  table  sup- 


'IHVO'     LOOPINt.    THF    LOnp. 


with  a  steering-wheel  cut  from  a  section  of  a 
broom-handle  in  which  a  hole  had  been  made 
for  the  nail  to  pass  through. 

It  was  a  comical  sight  to  see  this  little  car 
descend  the  grade  with  the  monkey  pitched 
forward,  and,  a  moment  later,  see  the  automo- 
bile turn  over  inside  the  loop  and  pass  out  and 
over  the  three  hills  with  perfect  ease. 


ported   a    "  wheel   of  fortune "  made   from    a 
barrel-hoop,  a  broom-stick,  and  some  wire. 

This  wheel  kept  up  a  lively  spinning  all 
through  the  fair  time.  Everybody  drew  some- 
thing, as  there  were  no  blanks,  and  the  best 
prize  was  a  cent's  worth  of  toys,  candy,  cake, 
peanuts,  or  a  choice  of  various  things  in  the 
tray  of  goods  provided  for  the  wheel. 


'904l 


THE    COrXTV     lAIK. 


1005 


It  was  an  easy  matter  to  construct  this  piece 
of  paraphernalia,  and  only  the  very  simplest 
materials   were   empl()ve<l   in    makini;   it. 


(0Mr.0N!C0MEON!l 

55WT5  fORlcCNT-  1 
MiOCn  ^D0IJ5  HOWS-  ■ 
AVD  (,I  I  ^  PRIZt      1 

A  barrel-hoop  of  smooth,  flat  wood  was  ar- 
ranged with  a  hub  of  tin  about  four  inches  in 
diameter,  and  held  in 
place  with  four  wires 
<lrawn  taut  and  wound 
round  the  hoo]).  A 
hole  in  the  center  ot 
the  tin  hub  admitted 
tlie  upright  stick  on 
which  it  revolved.  An 
other  round  disk  of  tin 
two  inches  in  diameter 
was  cut  for  the  to|i 
bearing,  and  from  tlii^ 
piece  wires  suspended 
the  hooj).  .-K  small  hole 
was  made  in  tlie  center 
of  this  disk  through 
which  a  nail  would 
pass.  A  broom-stick 
whittled  nearly  to  n 
point  was  inserted  in 
a  hole  in  the  square 
table  or   ledge   made 

for  the  wheel,  and  in  the  top  of  the  stick,  at  the 
whittled  end,  a  steel-wire  nail  was  driven,  which 


held  the  up[ier  disk  in  i)lace  at  the  top  of  the 
pole. 

Fig.  7  gives  a  clear  idea  of  the  construction 
iif  this  wheel,  which  can  be  seen  in  action  in 
the  illustration  at  the  bottom  of  this  page. 

The  table  was  divided  off  into  four  sections,  a 
I  orner  representing  a  section ;  and  they  were 
numbered  frt)m  1  to  4,  and  on  .section  i  the 
]>rize  was  placed,  while  on  the  other  three  sec- 
tions small  wares  such  as  peanuts,  candy,  or  a 
piece  of  cake  rested  to  console  the  spinner  who 
was  not  fortunate  enough  to  have  the  marked 
part  of  the  wheel  stop  at  No.  i. 

Another  feature  of  the  fair  that  kept  the 
small  boy  working  was  the  "  record  pole,"  at 
the  top  of  which  a  gong  could  be  rung  by  the 
bo\-  who  was  sufficiently  muscular  to  hit  the  trip- 
hoard  hard  enough  to  send  the  weight  up  to 
the  looo-mark.  This  afforded  the  "strong 
boy"  and  the  "little  fellow  with  the  big 
muscle"  a  good  opportunity  to  .see  how  strong 
they  really  were,  and  when,  occasionally,  the 
gong  sounded  at  the  top  of  the  i)ole,  the  proud 
thumper  stepped  up  for  his  prize,  to  the  envy 
of  the  boys  who  had  tried  and  failed. 

The  record  pole  was  made  of  a  sixteen-foot 


THE    "WHEFL    OK    FcRTl'Nt. 


plank  eight  inches  wide   and   one  and  a  half 
inches  thick.     At  the  top  a  shelf  six  inches  wide 


ioo6 


THE    COUNTY    FAIR 


[Sept. 


was  attached  and  supported  by  two  strips  of  the  fulcrum  was  arranged  on  which  the  trip- 
wood  to  act  as  brackets,  as  shown  in  Fig.  8 ;  and     board  rested,  and  which,  on  being  hit  with  the 

heavy  mallet  or  maul  (that  was  made  of  a 
piece  of  kindling-wood  and  a  curtain-pole), 
threw  the  weight  up  the  wire  that  was  stretched 
tight  between  the  foot-board  and  bracket-shelf 
at  the  top  of  the  pole. 

The  block  that  traveled  on  the  wire  was  a 
piece  of  wood  two  inches  in  diameter  and  three 
inches  long,  having  a  hole  bored  through  it 
with  a  gimlet  so  that  it  would  travel  on  the 
wire  easily. 

Cross-lines  and  numbers  from  loo  to  looo 
were  painted  on  the  board,  and  the  whole 
affair  was  attached  to  the  fence  with  a  few  steel- 
« ire  nails,  which  held  it  securely  in  place.  The 
fulcrum  was  nailed  fast  to  the  foot-board,  and  the 
trip-board  was  attached  to  it  with  hinges.  The 
foot-board  under  the  trip-board  w-as  padded 
with  an  e.xcelsior  and  cloth  pad,  and  another 
one  was  arranged  on  the  trip-board,  where  it 
was  hit  with  the  maul. 

This  pad  protected  the  woodwork  from  the 
harshness  of  the  blow,  and  acted  as  a  spring. 

The  trip-board  was  hung  so  that  about  two 
thirds  of  it  was  on  the  .side  toward  the  weight, 
and  the  remaining  third  afforded  a  surface  to  be 
struck  by  the  maul. 

It  was  interesting  to  watch  the  weight  in  its 
eccentric  actions  on  the  wire,  for  sometimes  a 
small  boy's  rap  would  send  it  ujj  to  the  gong, 
when  a  larger  boy's  strike  failed  to  send  it 
above  the  500-mark. 

Among  the  toys  and  fancy  articles  that  were 
sold  on  the  tables  were  some  ingeniously  con- 
structed things  that  the  boys  and  girls  had  made. 
The  girls  dressed  dolls  of  all  sizes,  from  small 
china  ones,  that  sold  for  one  cent,  to  large  ones 
worth  at  least  twenty-five  times  more. 

Then  there  were  pencil-holders;  cases  that 
folded  and  rolled  up  for  school  things,  and  tied 
with  a  ribbon  ;  sachet-bags ;  pen-wipers  ;  dolls' 
clothes ;  small  pin-cushions ;  and  innumerable 
things  for  dolls'  wear,  and  other  knickknacks. 

The  boys  made  finger  drums  from  cardboard 
boxes,  and  twisted  a  short  stick  in  an  elastic 
band,  so  that  an  end  of  it  would  bear  on  a 
cardboard  head.  By  tripping  the  end  that  pro- 
at  the  bottom  a  foot  was  arranged  and  braced  jected  on  the  side  of  the  drum,  the  stick  would 
with  side  strips,  as  shown  in  Fig.  9.     On  this  foot     fly  back  and   hit   the  drum-head  with   a  noise 


'  KECOKD    POLE. 


I90<.] 


THE    COUNTV     FAIR 


1007 


very  similar  to  that  of  a  drum.  After  a  few 
minutes'  practice  with  the  fingers  it  was  an  easy 
matter  to  imitate  the  regular  drum  taps. 

Telephones  were  made  of  cardboard  bo.xes 
and  string,  and  bean-shooters  of  elastic,  leather, 
and  wire  crotches,  although  shooting  with  them 
was  prohibited  within  the  fair  grounds. 

Some  of  the  most  ingenious  toys  were  the 
windmills,  collapsible  balloons,  and  high-fliers. 

The  windmills  were  made  of  short  square 
sticks  with  a  hole  bored  through  them.  One 
end  was  plugged  and  a  piece  of  elder  reed  with 
the  pith  removed  inserted  in  the  other  end  to 
act  as  a  blowpijje.  A  short  upright  stick  was 
mounted  at  the  plugged  end,  and  on  this  the 
wheel  was  nailed. 

The  wheel  was  cut  from  the  thick  end  of  a 
broom-stick,  making  a  thin  round  disk  of  wood 
on  which  three  little  pieces  of  wood  were 
glued.  .\  iiole  bored  diagonally  into  the  square 
stick  under  the  blades  of  the  wheel  allowed  the 


small  hole  was  cut  so  the  balloons  could  be 
blown    full    of  air. 

They  were  used  to  play  hand-ball  with,  and 
a  sudden  gust  of  wind  would  blow  them  away, 
when  there  would  be  a  lively  scampering  to  re- 
capture them. 

The  high-fliers  were  made  of  a  piece  of  tin 
four  inches  in  diameter,  cut  as  shown  in  Fig. 
II,  A,  and  the  ears  were  slightly  bent  as  in  the 
blades  of  a  propeller. 

Two  holes  were  ])unched  near  the  center  and 
fitted  the  pins  in  the  toj)  of  the  spool  B,  which 
in  turn  was  made  to  revolve  at  the  top  of  the 
stick  C  by  means  of  a  top  cord. 

A  quick  pull  on  the  cord  wound  around  the 
spool  would  send  the  little  flier  spmnmg 
around,  when  it  would  leave  the  spool  and  roar 
up  into  the  air  until  its  slackening  speed  would 
allow  it  to  descend. 

Most  of  these  little  objects  sold  for  a  cent  or 
two,  and  as  they  were  all   within  the  means  of 


hOMiL   OF    THE    HOME-MADE    AKTICLES   SOLD    AT   THE    FAIK. 


air  blown  through  the  elder  reed  to  jjass  up 
through  this  small  hole  and  cause  the  wheel  to 
revolve  rapidly. 

Fig.  10  shows  the  ])arts  of  this  little  toy.  and 
in  the  illustration  of  the  toys  the  children  made, 
a  completed  one  may  be  seen. 

The  collapsible  balloons  were  made  of  double 
thick  tissue-paper,  and  were  about  ten  inches 
in  diameter. 

They  were  made  in  the  manner  described  for 
the  large  balloon,  of  sections  of  tissue  i)aper 
glued  together,  and  over  each  end  where  the 
points  of  the  sections  came  together  a  round 
piece  of  paper  was  glued,  in   one  of  which  a 


the  average  fair-goer,  the  stock  on  hand  quickly 
dwindled,  so  that  very  few  things  were  left  over. 
Almost  any  group  of  boys  and  girls  could 
hold  a  county  fair  as  these  children  did,  and 
the  money  taken  in  could  be  devoted  to  some- 
thing in  which  all  the  children  are  interested, 
such  as  a  circulating  library  of  children's  books, 
the  purchase  of  a  stereopticon  for  winter  even- 
ing entertainment.  Some  of  the  more  clever  of 
the  boys  with  cameras  could  make  pretty  lan- 
tern slides  from  their  plates  of  good  subjects, 
while  the  young  folk  could  easily  devise  other 
schemes  in  which  all  the  children  could  take 
I)art   and    be   equal   owners. 


THE    GAY    GRECIAN    GIRL 


By  Carolyn  Wells. 


'THIS   QUEEN    (BEING    UP    LATE    AT   PARTIES,    PERHAPS)    WAS    ADDICTED   TO    TAKING   OF    AFTERNOON   NAPS. 

Miss  Flavia  Fulvia  Flora  Selene 
Was  a  lady  I  'm  certain  you  never  have  seen ; 
For  she  hved  far  away  and  she  hved  long  ago, 
In  the  classical  times  of  the  Grecians,  you  know. 

Now   Flavia   Fulvia   Flora  Selene 
Was  a  young  maid  of  honor  to  some  noble  queen. 
The  queen,  I   suppose,  had  a  name  of  her  own, 
The  which   I   've  forgotten,  if  ever   I   've  known. 

This  queen   (being  up  late  at  parties,  perhaps) 
Was  addicted  to  taking  of  afternoon  naps ; 
And  't  was  Flavia's  duty  to  watch  as  she  slept, 
And  see  that  inviolate  silence  was  kept. 


This  was  not  as  easy  as  you  might  suppose, 
For  the  queen  would  so  often  drop  into  a  doze; 
And  if  Flavia  Fulvia  failed  to  be  there 
A  punishment   dire  was  to   fall   to   her  share. 


nil-:    CAV    GUIXIAN    (;iKL. 

What  this  punishmem  was  she  had   never  been  told, 
But  't  was  worse  than  a  chiding  and  more  than  a  scold; 
And  in  Flavia's  mind  fearful  visions  were  rife 
Of  thumb-screws  and  galleys  and  exile  for  life. 

But  temjitation  came  subtly  and  swiftly,  alas  ! 

The  young  Grecians  were  forming  a  new  dancing-class, 

And  Flavia  Fulvia  wanted  to  eo : 

Inclination  said  "yes,"  but  then   Prudence  said  "no!" 

The  hour  came.     The  queen  was  in  sleep  so  profound 
That  Flavia   Fulvia's  heart  gave  a  bound, 
And  she  thought,  "  I  '11  run  over  a  minute  or  so. 
And  if  she  does  n't  waken  she  never  will   know." 

Away   to   the   dancing-class   Flavia   sped ; 
But  as  she  went  fearful  thoughts  danced  in  her  head. 
What  doom  would  be  hers  if  the  (jueen  should  awake? 
The  pillory,  ducking-.stool,  rack,  block,  or  stake  .^ 

She  danced  with  the  rest.     But,  oh,  dreadful  to  tell ! 
The  queen  waked  and  missed  her!     The  punishment  fell! 
"And  what  was  the  punishment?"     Well,  I  must  own 
That  I  have  forgotten  —  if  ever  I  've  known. 


1009 


THE   yCEEN    WAKED    AND    MISSED    HER  !     THE    PUNISHMENT   FELL  ! 


THE    CHILDREN    OF    ZUNI. 


By  Maria  Brace  Kimball. 


"  Little  Indian,  Sioux  or  Crow, 
Little  frosty  Eskimo, 
Little  Turk  or  Japanee, 
Oh,  don't  you  wish  that  you  were  me?  " 

So  says  the  well-fed,  well-dressed,  well-housed 
little  Scotchman  in  Robert  Louis  Stevenson's 
rhyme.     But    I   don't   believe  that   the    small 


New  York.     In  their  village  of  mud  and  stone, 
on  the  sunny  plains  of  New  Mexico,  they  have 
lived  for  centuries  in  perfect  contentment.    Fine 
houses,  green  parks,  and  merry  streets  would 
be  nothing  to  them;  hats  and  jiarasols,  candies 
and  ice-cream   would  make  them  stare ;   and 
mere    cleanliness    would    only    astonish   them. 
Indeed,  if  they  saw  us 
washing  our  faces  and 
brushing  our  hair  every 
day,  they  would  proba- 
bly one  and  all  cry  out 
in  Zuiii  words: 

"Oh,  don't  you  wish  that 
you  were  me  ?  " 

The  little  half-civi- 
lized children  of  Zuni 
so  aroused  our  curiosity 
that  we  drove  through 
forty  miles  of  sand  and 
sage-brush,  from  the  rail- 
■»  road  at   Fort  Wingate, 

to  pay  them  a  visit.  As 
the  Indians  do  not  pro- 
vide for  travelers,  we 
took  our  hotel  with  us 

—  tents,  beds,  and  food 

—  and  camped  just  out- 
side their  village.  The 
village  looks  like  a  huge 
beehive  made  of  clay 
and  stuck  fast  to  the  top 
of  a  sandy  knoll.  The 
hive  is  filled  with  a  mass 
of  cells — three  hundred 
single  rooms,placed  side 
by  side  and  piled  in  rows 
one  on  top  of  another. 
In  each  of  these  rooms 
lives     a     Zuiii    family. 

Indians  of  Zuiii  would  care  at  all  to  change    There  are  no  inside  stairways  leading  from  story 
places  with   the  little  -me"  of  Edinburgh  or    to  story,  but  if  the  boys  and  girls  living  in  one 


A    ZUNI    FAMILY    ON    THE    MARCH. 


THE    CUIIIiREN    OF    ZUNI. 


lOI  I 


row  wish  to  pay  a  visit  to  a  house  above 
them,  they  must  go  outdoors  and  climb  a 
ladder.  On  the  slope  between  the  village  and 
the  Zuni  River  are  a  number  of  small  vege- 
table-gardens, each  one  inclosed  by  a  mud 
wall.  Zuiii  has  no  inns,  no  shops,  no  saloons, 
not  even  ])roper  streets,  but  only  narrow  alleys 
that  thread  their  way  through  the  strange 
town.  As  we  walked  through  the  village,  all 
the  world  came  out  to  see  us.  Girls  and  boys 
clustered  on  the  roofs  or  sat  on  the  ovens, — 
([ueer  little  cones  of  mud  which  seem  to  grow  up 
out  of  the  house-tops, — while  fathers,  mothers, 
and  babies  peered  out  from  dark  doorways,  to 
stare  at  the  visitors.  When  we  had  finished 
our  tour  of  the  roofs  and  alleys,  we  were  hos- 
pitably invited  indoors;  even  there  the  children 
followed  us,  and  as  we  glanced  up  to  a  hole  in 
the  ceiling  which  served  as  a  window,  a  girl's 
laughing  face  filled  the  opening.  We  must  have 
looked  strange  enough  in  our  hats  and  gloves 
and  long  skirts. 

The  Zufii  child  sjjcnds  his  early  days  in  a 
cradle.  But  a  cradle  in  Zuni-land  does  not 
mean  down  pillows,  silken  coverlets,  and  fluffy 
laces;  it  is  only  a  flat  board,  just  the  length  of 
the  baby,  with  a  hood  like  a  doll's  buggy-top 
over  the  head.  Upon  this  hard  bed  the  baby 
is  bound  like  a  mummy  —  the  coverings  wound 
round  and  round  him  until  the  little  fellow  can- 
not move  except  to  open  his  mouth  and  eyes. 
Sometimes  he  is  unrolled,  and  looks  out  into 
the  bare  whitewashed  room,  blinks  at  the  fire 
burning  on  the  hearth,  and  fixes  his  ej'es  ear- 
nest!) on  the  wolf  and  cougar  skins  that  serve  as 
chairs  and  beds  and  carpets  in  the  Zuni  home. 

l!y  the  time  he  is  two  or  three  years  old,  he 
has  grown  into  a  plump  little  bronze  creature, 
with  the  straightest  of  coarse  black  hair  and  the 
biggest  and  roundest  of  black  eyes.  He  is  now 
out  of  the  cradle,  and  trots  about  the  house 
and  the  village.  When  the  weather  is  bad  he 
wears  a  small  coarse  shirt,  and  always  a  neck- 
lace of  beads  or  turquoise. 

.\s  he  grows  older,  he  adds  a  pair  of  loose  cot- 
ton trousers  to  his  costume,  and,  if  anything  more 
is  needed  to  keep  him  warm,  he  girds  on  his 
blanket,  just  as  his  forefathers  havedone  in  all  the 
three  hundred  years  since  white  men  first  knew 
the  Zunis.     His  long  hair,  either  flying  loosely 


in  the  wind  or  tied  back  with  a  band  of  some 
red  stuff,  serves  him  both  as  hair  and  as  hat. 

His  little  sister,  however,  has  a  more  elabo- 
rate dress.  Her  mama  weaves  it  for  her,  as 
she  does  her  own,  in  a  rude  loom.  She  makes 
two  square  blankets  of  black  cotton,  finishes 
them  neatly  across  toi)  and  bottom,  sews  them 
together  at  the  sides  with  red  yarn,  and  the 
dress  is  ready  to  try  on.    It  always  fits  perfectly. 


>=i" 


•f.^-..- 


A   ZUNI    WA1  RR-CARRIEK 


as  the  part  which  forms  the  skirt  is  sim])ly  held 
in  place  by  a  sash,  and  the  waist  is  made  by 
drawing  two  comers  of  the  blankets  up  over 
the  left  shoulder.  The  sash,  woven  in  gay 
colors,  is  also  the  work  of  Mama  Zuiii.  A 
long,  narrow  piece  of  cotton  cloth  is  draped 
from  the  other  shoulder,  and  swings  easily 
about,  serving  as  pocket,  shawl,  or  pinafore. 
In  cold  weather,  moccasins, leggings,  and  blan- 
kets are  also  worn.  These  articles,  too,  are 
made  at  home.     While  the  mother  is  the  dress- 


lOI  2 


THE    CHILDREN    OF    ZUNI. 


[Sept. 


maker  and  tailor,  the  father  is  the  family  shoe- 
maker. A  few  of  the  Zuhi  girls  have  dresses 
like  those  of  American  girls.  These  clothes 
have  come  to  them  through  the  mission-school 
which  adjoins  the  village. 

The  Zuiiis  have  a  language  of  their  own  — 
no  very  easy  one  for  boys  and  girls  to  learn, 
judging  from  its  many-syllabled,  harsh-sound- 


hundred  yards  from  the  houses.  At  the  top  of 
a  flight  of  stone  step's  they  wait,  playing  about 
in  the  sand,  while  their  mothers  go  down  to  the 
spring.  There  the  women  fill  the  jars,  then, 
poising  them  on  their  heads,  climb  the  hill  and 
mount  the  ladders  to  their  homes.  As  all  the 
water  used  by  the  village  has  to  be  brought  to  it 
in  these  (V/i^.f  (water-jars),  carried  on  the  women's 


^t;.-- 


ON    THK    U  AV    TO    1-OKT    WliNGATE. 


ing  words.  They  also  speak  a  little  Spanish,  as 
does  nearly  everybody  in  New  Mexico. 

The  little  Zuiiis  amuse  themselves  with  run- 
ning, wrestling,  jumping,  and  playing  at  grown 
folks,  just  as  civilized  children  do.  They  have 
their  bows  and  arrows,  their  rag-dolls, — strapped 
like  real  babies  to  cradles, — and  their  shinny 
sticks  and  balls.  The  children  also  make  them- 
selves useful  at  home.  The  older  girls  take  care 
of  their  younger  brothers  and  sisters,  and  the 
boys  tend  the  goats.  There  are  large  herds  of 
goats  belonging  to  the  village,  and  they  must  be 
taken  every  morning  to  graze  on  the  plain,  and 
brought  home  at  night  to  be  shut  up  in  the 
corrals,  or  folds,  safe  from  prowhng  wolves. 

The  little  children  often  go  with  their  mothers 
to   draw  water  from  the  village   well,  about  a 


heads,  it  is  not  surprising  that  the  boys'  clothes 
are  grimy  and  the  girls  have  apparently  never 
known  what  it  is  to  wash  their  faces. 

The  ollas^  which  answer  the  purpose  of  fam- 
ily china  and  of  kitchen-ware,  are  made  by  the 
Zuni  women  from  the  clay  of  the  river-bank. 
The  wet  earth  is  shaped  by  hand  into  jars  of  all 
sorts  and  sizes  ;  the  jars  are  then  painted  with 
gay  colors,  in  queer  patterns,  and  burned.  It  is 
a  pretty  sight,  of  an  evening,  to  see  the  fires  of 
the  kilns  dotted  all  over  the  terraces  of  the  vil- 
lage. Each  piece  of  pottery  is  shut  up  inside  a 
little  wall  of  chips,  which  are  set  on  fire;  when 
the  chips  are  burned  up,  the  article  is  baked 
and  ready  for  use.  The  Zuhi  mamas  make  not 
only  the  jars  for  family  use,  but  also  clay  toys 
for  the  children,  curious  rattles,  dolls'  mocca- 


Till-:    (   Mll.DKEN    OK    ZIM. 


lOI 


sins,  owls,  eagles,  horses,  and    other  i  hililish 
treasures. 

The  Zuni  has  learned  that  American  coffee 
and  tobacco  are  better  than  Inilian  herb  tea 
and  willow  bark.  As  he  must  have  ready 
money  in  order  to  buy  such  articles,  he  has 
contrived  various  ways  of  earning  a  few  reaUs 
(Spanish  for  shillings).  When  spring  comes 
and  the  snows  have  melted,  he  collects  the  jars 
and  bowls  and  trinkets  that  have  been  made 
during  the  winter,  ties  them  up  in  the  several 
corners  of  his  blanket,  and  trudges  off  to  market 
at  Fort  W'ingate,  forty  miles  away.  Hows  and 
arrows,  and  canes  made  from  a  singular  cactus 
which  grows  near  Zufii,  are  also  added  to  the 
stock  in  trade.  If  the  Indian  is  lucky  enough 
to  own  a  burro,  he  and  one  of  the  boys  mount 
the  patient  creature,  while  the  family,  big  and 
little,  with  some  of  the  neighbors,  complete  the 
partv.  Once  in  the  garrison,  the  Zuni  family 
need  only  walk  up  and  down  to  advertise  their 
wares ;  the  boys  and  girls  help  to  carry  the 
jars,  while  the  babies  follow.  The  group,  with 
its  bright   blankets  and  gay  pottery,  soon  at- 


tracts attention  and  sales  begin  on  the  side- 
walks and  verandas.  Little  is  said  by  the 
Zuni  merchants,  but  when  tiie  bargaining  is  fin- 
ished, they  stand  silent,  waiting  with  a  hungry 
look  for  the  usual  invitation  to  the  kitchen. 
There,  seated  in  a  circle  on  the  floor,  they 
gratefully  eat  and  drink  whatever  is  set  before 
them.  Their  store  of  words  does  not  include 
"  Thank  you,"  but  their  faces  brighten,  and 
the  older  people  politely  shake  hands  with  a 
"  Bueno,  bueno,  senora"  ("Good,  good,  ma- 
dame"),  while  the  babies  munch  and  crumble 
their  cake  and  cry  for  more,  just  as  our  own 
white  babies  do.  The  thoughtful  mamas  do 
not  forget  the  miles  of  "home  stretch"  before 
the  family,  and  wisely  tuck  away  in  their  blan- 
kets the  last  bits  of  cheese  and  crackers. 

When  they  have  looked  over  the  fort,  tasted 
its  bread  and  coffee,  and  sold  their  cargo,  they 
cheerfully  go  home  to  their  mud  village  and 
Indian  habits.  Old  and  young,  they  all  are 
children,  easily  pleased,  contented  with  things 
as  they  are,  and  quite  certain  in  their  own  minds 
that  the  Zuni  way  is  the  right  way  to  live. 


WHICH? 

(  I'lu  Baby  Soliloquizes.) 


l!v  JdHN   Kkndkick   Ban(;s. 


Sn.MK.iioDV  whose  fir.st 
name  is  Pa  came  in 
my  room  to-day  •« 
,  And  asked  a  lady  he 
called  Ma  how 
much  somebody  'd 
weii;h  ; 

Anil  then    he    asked 
her  if  she  thought 
May  was  a   pretty 
I'l'  I  name ; 

How  soon  some  person  could  be  taught 
to  play  some  sort  of  game  ; 


'^W^ 


Why  some  one  had  n't  any  nose 
to  mention  ;   at  what  store 

Somebody  got  the  lovely  clothes 
somebody  always  wore. 

I  've  looked  about  the  room  all  day, 

in  hopes  of  finding  out 
Who  that  somebody  is  that  they 

ail  talk  so  much  about ; 

And  I  've  concluded  that  that  per- 
son certainly  must,  be 

The  lady  whose  first  name  is  Nurse, 
or  else  it  's  little  me. 


A   GOOSE    HUNT    BY    STEAMER. 


By  Charles  A.  Zimmerman. 


The  stern-wheel  packet  Time  and  Tide  and 
the  propeller  Xautihis  were  rivals  for  the  pas- 
senger and  freight  traffic  of  the  river  St.  Croix. 
Many  amusing  incidents  took  place  in  the 
hot  and  fierce  competition  for  business  when 
both  happened  to  land  at  the  same  dock :  one 
in  particular  I  recall.  During  the  excitement  of 
an  attempt  at  a  simultaneous  departure  with 
the  other  boat,  the  captain  of  the  stern-wheeler 
was  asked  by  a  passenger  to  "  hold  on  a  bit ! " 
"  Time  and  Tide  waits  for  no  man,"  was  his 
lofty  and  prompt  reply ;  but,  espying  at  this 
instant  a  lady  making  rapidly  for  his  boat, 
quickly  and  gallantly  added,  "  and  only  one 
minute  for  a  woman." 

The  boys  of  the  St.  Croix  Valley  were  strong 
partizans  and  favored  the  little  Nauti,  for  her 
timbers  were  of  our  own  sturdy  Wisconsin 
oak ;  besides,  we  had  seen  her  grow  from  her 
keel  upward  on  our  dock  at  Lakeside,  while 
the  Time  and  Tide  was  brought  from  the  Mis- 
sissippi to  share  the  profits.   Well  knowing  that 

it  was  of  vital  importance  for  Captain  P 

of  the  Nautilus  to  "  pull  out  "  promptly,  we  fre- 


quently helped  "  wood  up  "  ;  this  proceeding 
enabled  our  favorite  to  get  quite  a  start  over 
her  powerful  rival.  It  was  but  natural  that  the 
captain  should  entertain  the  kindliest  feelings 
for  his  young  friends ;  indeed,  he  often  carried 
us  free  to  neighboring  towns  when  our  business 
or  pleasure  required  it. 

One  day  during  the  month  of  October  we 
heard  the  well-known  whistle  the  captain  was 
in  the  habit  of  using  when  he  desired  us  to  be 
on  hand.  We  ran  down  to  the  wharf,  expect- 
ing to  see  the  Nautilus  closely  followed  by  her 
rival ;  but  no  other  boat  was  in  sight,  and  she 
landed  alone. 

"  Boys,"  said  the  smiling  captain,  as  he  made 
fast  the  bow-line,  •'  what  would  you  all  say  to  a 
goose  hunt  on  the  Nautilus  to-morrow,  bright 
and  early  ?  Her  owners  send  her  to  you  for 
that  purpose,  with  their  compliments." 

With  a  hearty  cheer  we  accepted  his  invita- 
tion, agreeing  to  be  on  hand  fully  armed  and 
equipped.  "  Fetch  along  your  linen  dusters, 
light  hats,  a  few  sh'eets  or  table-cloths,  and 
don't  forget  to  bring  your  goose  shot !  "  shouted 


A    GOOSE    IILNT    BV    STEAM KK. 


1015 


the  captain  while  backinj,'  his  boat  out  into  the 
current. 

We  knew  him  to  be  an  old  goose-hunter,  and 
felt  sure  he  was  able  to  bring  us  somewhere 
near  the  game;  but  as  for  hunting  the  wary 
bird  with  a  steamboat,  we  all  agreed  he  must 
be  joking.  Nevertheless  we  fell  to  preparing 
for  the  morrow. 

"  Whv,  my  bov,"  said  my  big  brother  to  nv.-, 

"Captain  P is  making 

game  of  you:  if  he  suc- 
ceeds as  well  with  the 
other  geese  you  need  not 
complain." 

We  found  the  little 
steamer  there,  and  the 
decks  cleared  for  action; 
the  captain  at  the  wheel, 
himself  attired  in  white 
like  the  rest  of  us.  Even 
Joe  Rice,  the  engineer, 
with  his  long,  old-fash- 
ioned musket,  was  a  fee- 
hie  imitation  of  a  summer 
tourist. 

We  gathered  about  the 
captain  while  he  explained 
that  when  passing  Willow 
Bar  the  day  before,  it  was 
literally  covered  with  wild 
geese  and  ducks.  '■  I  took 
a  sudden  notion,"  said  he, 
"  to  see  how  near  I  could 
ap()roach  without  alarm- 
ing them.  \Ve  had  n't  a 
passenger  aboard ;  the 
Time  and  Tide  had 
'  scooi)ed  us'  at  Prescott. 
I  hid  behind  the  wheel 
and  Joe  kept  out  of  sight 
in  the  engine-room.  Would  you  believe  it  ? —  we 
ran  this  little  craft  witiiin  a  rod  or  two  of  that 
•  raft '  of  geese  before  they  took  to  flight. 

"  The  thought  struck  me  that  it  would  be  a 
very  fine  scheme  to  let  you  youngsters  into  the 
secret,  for  I  knew  you  were  fond  of  hunting,  and 
when  I  mentioned  the  matter  to  the  superin- 
tendent he  at  once,  and  quite  willingly,  gave 
his  consent." 

Daylight  was  a|)]:)earing,  and,  in  accordance 


with  our  leader's  instructions,  we  tacked  up 
the  sheets  and  table-cloths  about  the  forward 
guards  of  the  boat.  This  furnished  us  an  ex- 
cellent breast-high  blind  behind  which  we  could 
make  observations  unperceived.  Our  light 
hats  and  clothing  blended  well  with  the  screens 
and  color  of  the  steamer. 

"  How  much  steam  have  you  got,  Joe  ?  "  in- 
quired the  captain  of  the  engineer. 

"  Ninety  pounds 
cap'n,"  was  the  an- 
swer. 

'•  Run  it  down  to 
forty ;  muffle  your 
gong  and  tend  it 
closely ;  throw  your 
exhaust  outside  the 
stack  when  we  round 
the  next  point." 

"If  I  have  n't 
misseil  in  my  calcu- 
lations, boys,"  said 
our  captain,  after  hav- 


J^-^^ 


•IT    WAS    NIP  AND   TUCK    BETWEEN    JOE    A.\D   A     *  WI.NG-TIPPED  '    VICTIM."       (SEE    PAGE    1016.) 


ing  delivered  himself  of  the  necessary  instruc- 
tions to  his  factotum,  "  we  shall  be  busy  within 
the  next  ten  minutes.  Around  that  bold  point 
or  headland  yonder  is  Willow  Bar !  " 

Breathless  with  excitement,  and  with  beating 
hearts,  we  stood  behind  our  screens  and  put  our 
guns  in  readiness.  The  stillness  which  at  this 
early  hour  rested  on  the  river  was  now  broken 
only  by  the  subdued  puff!  puff"!  of  the  e.xhaust, 
and   even   that  died  away  presently ;   for  Joe, 


1 

ioi6 


A    GOOSE    HUNT    BY    STEAMER. 


obeying  the  muffled  signal,  liad  "slowed  doun" 
his  engine  until  we  merely  drifted  with  the 
current.  The  captain  still  held  the  wheel,  and 
guided  the  steamer  under  the  frowning  cliff 
beyond  which  he  had  informed  us  lay  the  bar. 
A  moment  later  its  point  was  disclosed  and 
we  were  in  full  view.  To  our  great  relief 
and  joy,  the  bar  was  alive  with  wild  fowl ! 
Whether  it  was  the  keen  frosty  air  or  the  pres- 
ence of  the  game  that  made  us  tremble,  it 
would  be  difficult  to  say  ;  but  you  have  heard 
of  the  deer-hunter  suffering  from  buck-ague, 
and  the  fact  remains  (or  I  shall  always  believe) 
that  we,  that  morning,  suffered  from  goose-ague.' 

We  had  approached  so  near  that  we  were 
able  to  distinguish  the  varieties  of  geese  as 
they  were  quietly  walking  about  or  feeding, 
apparently  taking  no  notice  of  our  intrusion. 
Our  pilot  left  his  wheel  and  joined  us,  armed 
with  a  heavy  double-barreled  gun,  and  Joe  fol- 
lowed his  example,  somewhat  awkwardly  hand- 
ling his  old  musket,  which  was  almost  as  tall  as 
himself 

"  Get  ready,  boys,"  whispered  our  leader,  and 
the  instantaneous  click-click  of  our  gun-locks 
followed  the  command.  "  Don't  fire,"  he 
added,  "  until  I  give  the  signal ;  that  old  soli- 
tary gander  yonder,  some  distance  from  the 
flock,  is  their  trusted  sentinel,  and  he  is  getting 
a  little  suspicious." 

"  We  don't  blame  him,  cap'n,"  put  in  Joe  at 
this  moment,  anxious  to  .say  something. 

'•  You  'tend  to  him,"  the  captain  continued, 
smiling,  "  and  we  will  do  the  best  we  can  with 
the  near  flock." 

'•  This  gun  's  been  loaded  since  the  Fourth 
of  July,  and  it  will  kick  like  a  government  mule, 
but  I  can  stand  it  if  the  gander  can,"  whispered 
the  irrejiressible  Joe,  bringing  his  gun  to  bear, 
as  did  the  rest  of  us,  on  the  birds.     The  cap- 


tain's hand  now  sought  the  whistle-cord,  and 
with  a  quick  pull  liberated  the  steam.  At  the 
shrill  note  every  goose's  neck  on  the  bar  was 
stretched  upward  in  sudden  alarm.  Just  then 
the  report  of  our  guns  burst  upon  the  startled 
birds,  who  instantly  rose  honking  into  the  air, 
only  to  receive  another  volley  with  telling 
effect. 

Dropping  our  guns,  we  ran  pell-mell  through 
the  shallow  water  to  retrieve  our  game.  The 
lifting  smoke  disclosed  a  number  of  the  huge 
birds  fluttering  upon  the  sand,  and  an  exciting 
race  followed  for  the  "  cripples,"  who  were 
rapidly  making  for  the  water  upon  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  bar.  It  was  nip  and  tuck  be- 
tween Joe  and  a  "  wing-tipped  "  victim,  and 
the  race  was  only  won  by  the  engineer  through 
a  stumble  which  preci]jitated  him  upon  the  bird 
and  into  the  water  and  sand  as  well. 

Joe  sent  up  a  .shout  of  trium])h  as  he  picked 
himself  up,  now  completely  wet  and  sanded. 
He  was  a  thoroughly  good-natured  fellow,  and 
said  he  did  n't  mind  —  "  it  only  made  him  feel 
more  gritty  !  " 

"  Joe,  did  ]i'ou  kill  your  gander .'  "  shouted 
the  captain,  from  the  steamer. 

"  Kill  him !  "  said  the  wag,  assuming  an  in- 
jured tone.     '•  1  siivcii  his  life  !  " 

'•  How  do  you  make  that  out  ?  "  queried  the 
captain. 

"  He  got  away  when  I  got  up." 

At  Frenchman's  Bar,  a  few  miles  farther 
down  the  stream,  we  encountered  another  flock 
from  which  we  took  fair  toll. 

Upon  our  return  trip  the  captain  good-na- 
turedly allowed  us  to  hang  our  "bag"  of  game 
about  the  guards  of  the  boat.  And  thus  deco- 
rated, we  created  quite  a  sensation  all  along  the 
river,  but  particularly  at  Lakeside,  where  the 
Time  and  Tide  was  taking  in  fuel. 


FOLLILOO. 


The   Princess   Faire   and    the    great    Trince 

True 
Were  heirs  to  the  throne  of  FoUiloo ; 
And  through  the  kingdom  the  rumor  sped 
That  both  were  minded  to  choose  and  wed. 
Now  FoUiloo  was  a  land  of  ease, 
And  of  curious  laws  and  strange  decrees, 
And  in  royal  weddings  this  rule  was  known  : 
'  One  from  the  people  and  one  from  the  throne." 

Dear  to  each  other  were  Faire  and  True; 
They  were  ever  together,  the  peojjle  knew. 
And  they  said,  "  He  will  choose  the  maid, 

't  is  clear, 
Most  like  the  sister  he  holds  so  dear; 
And  she  the  man,  we  can  all  foretell, 
Most  like  the  brother  she  loves  so  well." 
So  with  every  maid  't  was  a  constant  care 
To  copy  and  quote  the  Princess  Faire ; 
And  with  every  youth  tiiat  none  should  be 
So  like  to  the  royal  prince  as  he. 


The  prince  and  princess,  wandering 

through 
The  loyal  kingdom  of  FoUiloo, 
Found  about  them  for  weary  days 
Shadows  and  echoes  of  all  their  ways. 
Girls  who  had  else  been  fresh  and  sweet. 
Such  as  a  ])rince  might  gladly  meet. 
With  a  foolish  smirk  for  an  honest  smile. 
Weakly  followed  the  royal  style. 
And  painted  their  cheeks  antl  dyed  their 

hair 
To  match  the  colors  of  Princess  Faire. 

The  boys  might  all  have  been  manly  men. 
But  not  Prince  True  right  over  again ; 
And  the  jirincess  sighed  and  cried  :  "  Alas! 
What  if  their  wish  could  come  to  pass? 
A  dreary,  weary  world  it  would  be 
If  people  were  all  alike,"  said  she. 
'  You  are  your  noble  self,  dear  True, 
But  they  are  neither  themselves  nor  you." 
Eudora  S.  Bumstead. 


LIMERICKS." 


THE    ACQUIESCENT   SNAKE. 

There  once  was  a  man  who  said,  "  Why 
Can't  I  look  that  big  snake  in  the  eye?" 
The  snake  said,  "You  can," 
And  he  looked  at  the  man. 
('Most  any  last  line  will  apply.)  ■ 

Vol.   XXXI.— 128. 


THE    DISOBLIGING    BEAR. 

There  once  was  a  man  who  said,  "  Oh, 
Please,  good  Mr.  Bear,  let  me  go  ; 
Don't  you  think  that  you  can?" 
The  bear  looked  at  the'  man. 
And  calmly  responded,  "  Why,  no!" 

Carolyn  Wells. 


NOTHING   BUT   A   GIRL. 


By  S.  \V.   Hovev. 


Madge  Winslow  was  walking  up  and  down 
the  cool,  quiet  piazza  of  the  hotel,  with  Lady 
Jane  Grey,  her  doll.  She  had  been  confined  to 
her  room  for  a  week,  but  the  day  being  pleas- 
ant, she  was  allowed  to  go  out  on  the  porch. 
Madge  was  enjoying  a  chat  with  her  doll,  when 
suddenly  she  heard  a  hearty  laughing  behind 
her.  She  gave  a  jump  and  turned  quickly 
around.  There  stood  her  brother  George  shak- 
ing with  merriment.  Madge  was  too  confused 
to  speak.  She  flushed  a  deep  red  and  said 
nothing.  She  would  not  have  talked  to  her 
doll  in  that  way  if  she  had  known  any  one 
was  there,  and,  above  all,  her  brother  George. 
He  was  very  fond  of  teasing  her,  and  she  was 
afraid  she  would  never  hear  the  last  of  her  fool- 
ish conversation  with  Lady  Jane  Grey. 

"  I  was  only  playing,  you  know,"  said  Madge, 
in  reply  to  his  good-natured  banter. 

"  Well,  anyhow,"  he  said,  "  girls  are  only 
made  to  play  with  dolls  and  toys,  and  sit  around 
the  house.  You  never  heard  of  a  girl  getting 
to  be  a  President  or  anything  great.  But  come 
along,  Sis;  I  won't  tease  you  any  more.  What  do 


you  say  to  taking  a  walk  after  luncheon.^  Now 
that  father  and  mother  have  gone,  we  have  the 
whole  afternoon  to  ourselves." 

"That  would  be  lovely  !  "said  Madge, quickly, 
for  she  was  not  one  to  remember  a  grievance 
for  very  long.  Poor  Madge's  feelings  were  often 
very  much  hurt  by  her  brother's  laughing  at 
her,  and  teasing  her,  and  telling  her  that,  after 
all,  she  was  "  nothing  but  a  girl." 

They  were  staying  in  the  White  Mountains, 
and  their  parents  had  joined  a  party  to  ascend 
Mount  Washington,  leaving  the  two  children 
in  the  care  of  Miss  Nelson,  their  governess. 
Madge  ran  off  at  once  to  ask  her  if  she  might 
go  for  a  walk  with  George. 

"  Where  will  you  go  ?  "  said  Miss  Nelson. 

"  I  don't  know,  but  I  think  not  very  far." 

So  off  they  started.  They  romped  as  they 
went,  now  and  then  stopping  to  pick  flowers 
or  gather  birch  bark,  which  George  promised 
to  make  into  toy  canoes  for  his  sister.  Finally 
Madge  suggested  that  it  was  time  to  return. 

"  Why,  we  have  n't  gone  a  mile  yet.  And 
I  'm  going  up  the  mountain." 


NOTIIINC    BUT    A    GIRL. 


IOI9 


"  What  mountain  ?  "  said  Madge. 

"  Mount  Willard,  of  course.  Where  did  you 
think  we  were  going  ?  " 

"  Vou  did  not  tell  me  you  were  going  there," 
said  Madge. 

"  No,  I  did  not.  But  I  did  not  suppose  you 
could  have  any  objections  to  going  up  Mount 
Wiilard.  In  fact,  I  thought  you  wanted  to  go 
up  very  much." 

"  Let  us  wait  until  to-morrow,"  said  Madge. 
"  Perhaps  father  will  come  with  us  then." 

"  Oh,  it  may  rain  to-morrow,  or  something 
else  happen,"  said  George,  impatiently.  "  (;irls 
always  do  want  to  wait.  Only  think,  Madge; 
this  is  our  best  chance,  and  they  say  the  view 
is  so  lovely  at  the  top." 

Madge  was  puzzled.  She  felt  it  would  be 
wrong  to  go  any  farther,  but  she  was  sorry  to 
disappoint  George,  and  she  could  not  bear  his 
ridicule,  as  he  knew  very  well ;  so  she  allowed 
herself  to  be  persuaded  as  he  took  her  hand 
and  drew  her  along  in  a  coaxing  w-ay,  saying : 
'■  Come,  Sis  dear,  you  are  not  going  to  spoil  our 
fun.  We  '11  have  a  jolly  time.  After  all,  mother 
said  we  could  go  sometime,  so  we  are  all  right." 

George  cut  a  good,  strong  stick,  and  pre- 
sented it  to  his  sister.  "  For  snakes,"  he  said, 
as  he  handed  it  to  her. 

"  Nonsense,  George,"  said  Madge.  "  If  I 
see  any  snakes,  I  will  fly  to  you  for  protection. 
But  thank  you  all  the  same;  it  is  a  beauty,"  she 
added,  as  she  took  the  shining  stick.  "  How 
delightful  this  breeze  is!  And  oh,  George,  do 
look  at  those  trees.     What  glorious  coloring !  " 

They  walked  and  climbed  for  more  than  an 
hour,  and  at  last  a  turn  in  the  road  brought 
them  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  top  of  the 
mountain.  The  boy  and  girl  started  on  a  run, 
and  soon  were  beholding  one  of  the  most  beau- 
tiful \'iews  in  the  world. 

"  Is  n't  it  almost  time  for  us  to  be  going 
home  ?  "  said  Madge,  presently. 

George  looked  at  his  watch  and  replied : 

"  It  is  only  a  little  after  three,  and  father  and 
mother  will  not  get  home  until  after  five  o'clock. 
Still,  I  think  we  may  as  well  start." 

As  they  walked  along  they  noticed  a  path  lead- 
ing off  to  the  right,  and  a  sign-board  bearing 
the  words  "Hitchcock's  Flume"  in  large  letters. 

"  Oh,  Madge,  this  is  that  beautiful  flume  that 


those  men  at  the  hotel  were  talking  about  yes- 
terday !  "  exclaimed  George.  "  Let  's  go.  It 
will  be  no  end  of  a  lark,  and  we  have  plenty  of 
time.     Come  ahead,  Madge." 

"  Oh,  George,  we  must  n't !  We  ought  to 
go  home,  and  you  know  they  said  it  was  a  very 
steep  climb  and  dangerous." 

"  Stuff  and  nonsense!"  said  George.  "  It  is 
not  dangerous  one  bit.  I  wish  you  would  n't 
argue  every  point  all  the  time.  It  is  just  like 
girls.     They  always  arc  so  silly." 

"  But,  George,"  pleaded  poor  Madge,  "  you 
know — " 

"  Come  along,  Madge  !  You  are  not  going 
to  spoil  it  all !  It  is  n't  dangerous  —  take  my 
word  for  it;  and  if  it  is,  I  will  take  care  of  you 
and  help  you  " ;  and  he  pulled  her  along. 

Madge  said  nothing  more.  She  did  not  dare 
to  tell  him  how  frightened  she  was  as  she 
looked  down  the  steep  and  rough  path,  with 
loose  stones  and  roots  all  along  its  sides.  The 
children  stepped  carefully  down,  George  giving 
Madge  nis  hand  over  the  worst  places. 

Suddenly  George  dashed  ahead,  saying  : 

"  I  guess  this  mu.st  be  the  place." 

She  looked  down,  and  saw  her  brother  stand- 
ing on  a  bridge  over  a  deep,  rocky  gorge. 
Madge  was  at  his  side  in  a  moment.  They 
were  standing  about  midway  over  the  flume. 
Looking  up,  it  became  narrower  and  narrower 
till  the  two  sides  met  in  a  point;  and  looking 
down  this  deep,  beautiful  ravine,  overhung  by 
trees,  at  its  widest  point  not  more  than  fifteen 
feet  wide,  the  view  was  glorious.  Through  the 
trees  they  could  see  over  to  the  opposite  moun- 
tain, a  little  stream  dashing  down  its  side  the 
wholelcngth ;  disappearing  and  appearing  again, 
it  looked  like  a  narrow  ribbon.  Away  down  at 
the  foot  of  the  flume,  she  caught  a  glimpse  of 
the  railroad.  Madge  seated  herself  comfortably 
on  the  bridge,  and  was  soqn  wrapped  in  .silent 
admiration  of  the  scene,  while  George  walked 
farther  on  along  the  edge  of  the  bluff. 

She  was  still  gazing  at  the  enchanting  view, 
when  suddenly  she  was  aroused  by  a  loud  cry 
or  call.  Where  was  George  ?  She  jumped  up 
and  looked  around.  The  sight  that  met  her  eyes 
seemed  to  freeze  her  blood.  There  he  lay  on 
the  ground,  held  down  by  the  limb  of  a  freshly 
fallen  tree.     She  rushed  forward,  and  fell  on  her 


I020 


NOTHING    BUT    A    GIRL. 


(Sept 


knees  by  his  side,  calling  to  him :  "  George, 
George!  What  is  the  matter?"  She  got  no 
answer.  She  raised  his  head ;  he  opened  his 
eyes.    She  again  asked  :  "  What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

He  seemed  rather  surprised,  and  said:  "I 
don't  know.  I  guess  it  will  pass  off."  He 
started  up,  but  fell  back  with  a  groan  of  agony. 
"  My  leg !  oh,  my  leg  !  " 

Poor  Madge  was  terrified.  Alone  in  this 
dreadful  wilderness,  what  should  she  do  ?  She 
trembled  all  over  as  she  saw  that  the  hurt  was 
very  serious. 

He  had  evidently  been  standing  on  the  trunk 
of  a  birch  which  had  projected  out  from  the 
bank.  Strangely  enough,  the  roots  of  the  tree 
were  still  attached  to  the  earth  some  twenty 
feet  or  more  above  them.  George  struggled, 
but  every  movement  was  painful.  Then  Madge 
tugged  at  the  heavy  branch,  only  to  find  that 
she  would  have  to  lift  the  whole  tree  to  release 
her  brother.  But  something  would  have  to  be 
done,  and  done  quickly. 

After  convincing  herself  that  nothing  could 
be  gained  in  trying  to  lift  the  limb,  Madge 
scrambled  up  the  bank  to  see  how  securely  the 
roots  were  holding.  To  her  delight  she  found 
that  the  earth  aroimd  the  roots  had  been 
washed  away  almost  completely,  and  that  no 
doubt  the  tree  would  have  fallen  in  the  next 
heavy  rain  or  high  wind  —  so  slight  was  the 
hold  of  the  only  remaining  embedded  root. 
Madge's  active  little  brain  began  to  work  at 
this  discover)'. 

Why  not  loosen  the  root  entirely  and  let  the 
whole  tree,  which  was  not  a  large  one,  fall  of 
its  own  weight  farther  down  the  ravine  ? 

The  thought  had  no  sooner  occurred  to  her 
than  she  began  to  act  upon  it. 

First  assuring  herself  that  in  falling  it  would, 
because  of  the  lower  ground  in  that  direction, 
roll  away  from  George,  she  commenced  to 
pick  and  pull  the  loose  earth  and  stones  from  the 
root.  This  she  found  was  not  difficult,  as  the 
bank  was  hollow  underneath  and  the  earth 
yielded  readily  to  the  vigorous  prodding  of  her 
alpenstock.  But  it  was  not  easy  work,  and 
the  little  hands  were  well  blistered  when  at 
last  she  was  rewarded  by  hearing  a  crunching, 
tearing  sound,  at  which  she  stepped  back  from 
the  dangerous  edge  of  the  bluff.     In  a  moment 


down  crashed  the  tree,  rolling  over  and  lifting 
its  imprisoning  limb  from  George's  leg  with  no 
further  harm  to  him  than  if  it  had  been  a 
feather  duster. 

George,  who  had  fainted,  was  unconscious  of 
what  was  being  done  in  his  behalf.  At  the 
relief  of  the  pressure  on  his  leg  he  came  to,  and 
a  few  minutes  later  was  rejoiced  to  see  Madga 
bending  over  him. 

"  Dear  brave  old  Madge,  how  did  you  do 
it  ?  "  was  all  he  could  sav  between  twinges. 

"  Oh,  it  was  n't  hard,"  was  the  hearty  answer. 
"  And  now  I  must  go  and  get  some  one  to  help 
you.    Stay  here,  dear  George,  and  trv  to  bear  it." 

She  sprang  up  and  flew  along  the  path,  leap- 
ing from  stone  to  stone.  It  was  the  same 
dreaded  path  at  which  she  had  trembled  com- 
ing down ;  but  she  did  not  think  of  herself 
now.  She  only  thought  of  poor  George  at  the 
foot  of  the  path,  of  how  he  was  suffering,  and 
he  had  no  one  to  help  him  but  her.  Her  lips 
were  set  with  determination  as  she  flew  along 
until  she  came  to  the  road.  Even  then  she 
did  not  stop,  but  rushed  on.  Then  she  heard 
the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  and  wagon  wheels 
and  then  human  voices.  It  was  a  coach  from 
the  hotel !  A  turn  in  the  road  brought  it  in 
sight.  It  was  full  of  people  going  up  to  the 
top  of  the  mountain  for  the  view.  Madge 
called  loudly,  and  waved  her  hand  as  they 
approached.  .\  gentleman,  seeing  that  she 
was  in  distress,  jumped  out,  and  kindly  taking 
her  hand,  asked,  "  What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  My  brother  has  hurt  himself  down  by  the 
flume.     Oh,  come  to  him,  please,  quickly!" 

Another  gentleman  jumped  out  of  the  coach 
and  said :  "  I  will  go  with  you,  too.  Can  your 
brother  walk  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Madge;  "  he  tried  to,  but  it  hurt 
him  dreadfully." 

After  a  few  words  together,  the  gentlemen 
took  one  of  the  seats  out  of  the  coach,  and 
followed  Madge  down  the  path.  She  hurried 
along  quickly,  not  thinking  of  the  danger,  and 
soon  reached  the  place  where  poor  George  lay, 
but  bravely  kept  from  crying  out.  He  was  glad 
to  see  them,  but  he  seemed  afraid  to  have  the 
men  touch  him.  It  was  with  much  difficulty 
that  they  gently  lifted  him  up,  laid  him  on  the 
seat,  and  climbed  the  steep  path. 


1904.1 


NOTHING    BUT    A    IIIRL 


1021 


When  the  coach  returned  from  the  summit, 
thev  put  the  seat  in  its  place,  with  George  on  it. 
Madge  knelt  on  the  floor  of  the  coach  and  held 
his  hand ;  no  one  could  induce  her  to  sit  down. 
One  kindly  old  lady  invited  her  to  sit  on  her 
lap;  but  Madge  thanked  her  and  remained  with 
her  brother,  and  they  soon  arrived  at  the  hotel. 

How  Madge  wished  they  had  not  gone  up 
Mount  Willard  1  If  she  had  only  refused,  George 
would  not  have  gone,  and  the  accident  would 
not  have  happened.  How  could  she  meet  her 
dear  mother  ?  But  there  was  no  time  for  such 
reflections  now.  Their  mother  was  quickly  in 
the  room,  and  greatly  shocked  at  all  that  had 
occurred. 

The  doctor  carefully  examined  the  leg,  and 
said  that  one  of  the  bones  was  broken;  but  that 
the  injury  would  not  prove  serious,  and  must 
be  set  at  once. 

As  soon  as  the  doctor  left  the  room,  Madge 
threw  herself  into  her  mother's  arms  and  sobbed 
out  the  whole  story  of  the  afternoon's  walk, 
casting  no  blame  upon  George,  explaining  how 
they  had  started  for  the  walk  without  intending 
to  go  so  far,  and  asking  her  forgiveness.  George 
was  too  worn  out  with  the  fatigue  of  the  walk 
and  the  discomfort  of  the  accident  to  say  any- 
thing, and  was  soon  sleeping  soundly. 

But  for  days  George  thought  over  the  events 
of  that  afternoon.    He  recalled  how  Madge  had 


not  wished  to  go  without  permission — she  had 
asked  him  to  wait  until  the  ne.xt  day;  and  then 
he  thought  how  he  had  teased  her  by  telling 
her  that  she  was  "  nothing  but  a  girl ! "  He  now 
remembered  how  many  times  he  had  told  her 
that,  and  how  her  face  would  flush,  and  she 
would  immediately  do  whatever  he  asked. 
What  a  selfish  brother  lie  had  always  been ! 
And  as  the  events  of  the  day  [j.assed  through 
his  mind,  he  remembered  how  promptly  and 
bravely  his  sister  had  contrived  to  remove  the 
tree  from  him  and  run  for  help  after  his  fall, 
going  over  that  path  that  had  terrified  her  so  at 
first,  and  all  for  him,  and  then  explaining  it 
all  to  their  mother,  casting  no  blame  upon  him. 
It  was  too  much. 

He  resolved  as  soon  as  his  mother  came  in 
to  confess  it  all  to  her,  and  take  all  the  well- 
deserved  blame  upon  himself.  He  made  up  his 
mind  that  his  sister  needed  a  far  better  cham- 
pion and  companion  than  he  had  ever  been  to 
her.  He  firmly  resolved  that  nothing  was  too 
good  for  the  brave  little  girl,  and  that  never 
again  would  he  neglect  her  wise  little  coun- 
sels, or,  by  telling  her  that  she  was  "nothing 
but  a  girl,"  try  to  shame  her  into  joining  with 
him  in  pranks  that  he  himself  knew  would  not 
be  approved  by  their  very  best  friends  in  the 
whole  world  —  that  is  to  say,  by  their  father 
and  mother. 


^^jie.•P)^^•?'^s-fu^^     ^^ 


n 


n  ^  ^'\ 


«iK 


^  ^ikilMM-'- 


■^^miz-  r 


\ 


r^^s^^ 


TOM'S    RETURN. 


By  W.  C.  McClelland. 


Say,  Fred,  Tom  's  home  from  Uncle  Joe's.    He 

lives  on  Sandy  Creek  : 
Tom  went  down  there  last  Saturday,  and  stayed 

about  a  week. 
He  says  that  Uncle  Joe  's  a  most  uncommon 

sort  of  man. 
And  that  the  miller  says  "few  folks  can  bolt 

him  to  the  bran." 
I  don't  know  what  the  miller  means,  but  Tom 

he  knows  a  sight ; 
And  since  he  's  been  to  Uncle  Joe's  he  says 

the  miller  's  right. 

Tom  says  that  Jim,  the  big  hired  man,  one  hot 
midsummer  day, 


Just  tossed  him  clean  up  on  a  great  big,  mov- 
ing load  of  hay. 

He  says  that  Uncle  Joe  has  got  some  most  sur- 
prisin'  things 

About  his  house  and  in  his  barns :  he  has  a 
mouse  that  sings  ; 

His  oxen  they  can  do  big  stunts  besides  "gee," 
"haw-,"  and  "  whoa"; 

And  he  has  a  great  long-legged  horse  that  once 
was  in  the  show. 

You  ask  that  horse  if  he  hkes  oats,  he  nods; 

if  you  say  "  bread  " 
He  knows  the  difference  at  once,  and  always 

shakes  his  head. 


TOM  S    RETURN. 


I02- 


Tom  says  if  uncle  tells  "Old  Bones"  to  put  back    And  Jim's  boy  had  to  take  a  rake  to  keep  that 

his  left  ear,  hen  away. 

He  Ml  put  the  right  one  forrerd,  an'   I  think    And  there  's  a  little  banty  fowl  about  six  inches 

that  's  mighty  queer !  high 

And  Uncle  Joe  has  weathercocks  on  every  barn 

and  shed ; 
And  some  of  thern  are  yellow  ones,  and  six  are 

]>ainted  red. 


That  fights  the  great  big  gobbulcr  when- 
ever he  comes  by. 
He  spurs  and  crows  and  thinks  he  's  great, 

though  he  's  so  mighty  small 
The  folks  don't  think  the  gobbuler  knows 
he  's  been  fought  at  all ! 


Aunt  Annie  blows  a  big  tin  horn   to  call   the 
men  to  meals, 
He  has  a  pet  'coon  and  a  fox,  a  'possum  and  a    And  Tom  says  "pie  three  times  a  day"  jjuts 

crow  ginger  in  your  heels. 

That  won't  be  friends  with  any  one  exceptin'    They  've  dumplings  too,  and  roasting  ears,  and 

Uncle  Joe.  doughnuts  round  and  square, 

He  's  got  a  hen  that  steals  the  eggs  the  other    And  cider,    and  —  oh,    goodness   me,    I    7vish 
pullets  lay,  that  I  was  there  ! 


"■■  'lis 


b: 


■J  I  I'll    i'illi'/k'!,%^liiiii,!;i.i\ 

AMERICAN    MEMORIALS    IN    LONDON. 


By  Julian  King  Colford. 


Many  American  boys  and  girls  visit  Europe 
nowadays,  but  perhaps  few  even  of  these  fortu- 
nate young  folk  are  aware  that  the  greatest  of 
English  cities  contains  memorials  to  five  dis- 
tinguished Americans :  a  President,  a  patriot,  a 
poet,  a  preacher,  and  a  philanthropist.  These 
five  great  men  are  Abraham  Lincoln,  James 
Russell  Lowell,  Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow, 
Matthew  Simpson,  and  George  Peabody — five 
names  written  high  in  the  Hall  of  Fame,  names 
immortal  in  life  and  letters,  names  forever  illus- 
trious in  character  and  achievement. 

The  older  boys  and  girls  among  St.  Nicho- 
las readers  may  be  interested  in  a  brief  account 
of  the  London  memorials  to  these  famous 
Americans.  This  imperial  city,  moreover,  seeks 
only  imperial  men  upon  whom  to  lay  the  wreath 
of  her  high  honors.  Therefore,  surpassing  honor 
and  dignity  rest  upon  the  life  immortalized 
within  this  throne-room  of  the  nations;  and  the 
young  life  of  the  Western  World  has  already 
put  its  stamp  here  in  the  five  memorials  to  men 
recognized  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  as 
sages,  statesmen,  or  benefactors. 

"  With  charity  for  all  and  malice  toward 
none  "  —  these  well-known  words  of  the  great, 
brave,  sagacious  Lincoln  —  appear  in  large  let- 
tering in  the  creed  of  Christ  Church,  Westmin- 
ster Road.  It  is  fitting,  then,  that  the  imposing 
tower  of  this  superb  structure,  costing  over 
sixty-two  thousand  pounds  ($310,000),  should 
be  dedicated  to  the  liberator  of  a  race.  Row- 
land Hill,  whose  name  is  linked  with  the  world's 


great  preachers,  founded  Surrey  Chapel  eighteen 
years  before  the  close  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
Newman  Hall  was  one  of  his  successors,  and 
under  his  leadership  the  church  secured  this 
splendid  temple  and  center  of  Christian  service. 
When  the  building  was  still  in  the  hands  of 
the  architects,  Dr.  Hall  conceived  the  idea  of 
dedicating  the  tower  to  Abraham  Lincoln,  the 
martyred  President  of  the  United  States ;  and 
to-day  within  the  tower  you  may  read  the  fol- 
lowing inscription  : 

LINCOLN   TOWER. 

Inaugurated  4th  July  A.D.  1876,  by 

.Sir  Thomas  Powell  Buxton  Bart. 

The  memorial  stone  was  laid  9th  July  1S74, 

By  the  American  Minister  to  this  country. 

The  cost  (^^7000)  was  defrayed  equally  by  English 

and  American  contributions  obtained  by  the 

Rev'd  Newman  Hall  LL.B. 

It  was  built  in  commemoration  of  the  abolition 

of  slavery  effected  in  1865  by 

PRESIDENT   LINCOLN  ; 

And  as  a  token  of  international  brotherhood. 

GLORY   TO   GOD    IN   THE   HIGHEST. 

Following  on  from  President  to  patriot,  we 
make  our  way  to  Westminster  Abbey,  Eng- 
land's Temple  of  Fame.  With  a  spirit  of  wor- 
ship we  pass  through  the  old  gray  cloisters, 
whose  jagged  columns  bear  the  marks  of  time, 
until  we  come  to  the  chapter-house,  the  "  cra- 
dle of  all  free  parliaments,"  as  it  has  been 
called.  Here  England's  Parliament  assembled 
for  three  hundred  years ;  here  the  abbots  and 


AMERICAN  "^lEMORIALS    IX    LONDON. 


102: 


monks  used  to  sit  in  sol- 
emn council ;  here  in  later 
days  the  state  records 
were  kt'iJt. 

On  the  right  as  you 
enter  this  historic  hall, 
with  its  octagonal  walls. 
a  stained  -  glass  window 
commemorates  America's 
patriot-poet.  There  are 
four  sections  to  this  mas- 
sive window.  The  Ict't 
panel  holds  a  shield  borne 
by  angels  with  the  arms 
of  the  Unite<I  States  of 
.\merica,  angels  bearing  a 
shield  with  the  arms  of 
Harvard  University,  an- 
gels bearing  a  shield  with 
the  arms  of  the  Unites  I 
Kingdom,  angels  bearing; 
a  shield  with  the  arms  of 
Westminster.  The  two 
subjects  of  the  next  sec- 
tion (to  the  right)  arr 
those  of  St.  Botolph,  ani] 
the  landing  of  the  Pilgrim 
Fathers.  The  third  jjanel 
holds  a  massive  figure  of 
Sir  Launfal,  the  Angel  with  tlie  Holy  (Jrail 
and  Sir  Launfal  and  the  Leper.     The  last  sec- 


lion  contains  figures  of  St.  .\mbrose  and  tlie 
emancipation  of  slave.s.     Below  the  level  of  the 


THE  LONGFELLOW  BUST  IN  THE  POETS*  CORNER.  WESTMINSTER  ABBEY. 


Vol.  X.\XI.—  129. 


I026 


AMERICAN    MC>rORIALS    IX    LONDON. 


[Sept. 


THE    LOWELL   WINDHW    AND    TABLET    IN    WESTMINSTER    ABBEY. 

window  there  is  set  in  high  relief  the  head  of  the 
poet,  with  the  inscription  : 

This  tablet  ami  the  window  above 

were  placed  here  in  memory  of 

James  Russell  Lowell 

United  States  Minister  at  the  Court  of  St.  James 

From  1880  to  1885  — 

By  his  English  friends. 

VERITAS. 

Born  22  Feb.  1819 
Died  August  1S91. 

Great  and  noble  and  loyal  as  were  Emerson, 
Hawthorne,  and  Longfellow,  yet  Lowell  by  his 


pen  and  voice  did  more  than  any  other  of 
America's  great  writers  for  the  cause  cf  Free- 
dom. His  "  Biglow  Papers,"  with  their  keen 
thrusts  of  Yankee  wit  and  shrewdness,  were  a 
power  in  those  stirring  days;  and  he  wrote  also 
manv  fervid  poems  against  slavery,  incluiling 
those  ringing  lines: 

Once  to  every   man  am!  nation    comes  the  moment  to 

decide, 
In  the  strife  of  Truth  with  Falsehood,  for  the  good  or 

evil  side  ; 
Some  great  cause,  God's  new  Messiah,  offering  each  the 

bloom  or  blight. 
Parts  the  goats  upon  the  left  hand,  and  the  sheep  upon 

the  right; 
And  the  choice  goes  by  forever,  'twixt  that  darkness  and 

that  light." 

Lowell  welcomed  the  battle-scarred  veterans 
when  they  returned  from  the  front,  and  his  song 
lives  on  to-day,  and  for  all  time.  He  reached 
the  climax  of  popular  favor  while  ambassador 
to  Great  Britain.  This  high  place  was  thrust 
upon  him.  He  was  selected  as  the  one  fittest 
man  for  the  post ;  he  obeyed  the  call,  though, 
as  he  himself  lamented,  at  the  cost  of  literature. 

Linked  in  fellowship,  friendship,  and  song 
were  Lowell  and  Longfellow.  These  men  were 
neighbors  in  the  home-land  ;  they  were,  and 
are  still,  the  two  prime  ministers  of  American 
poetry — gentle  I^ongfellow,  impetuous  Lowell, 
master  singers  both. 

So  let  us  retrace  our  steps  into  the  mysterious 
awe  of  the  silent  abbey,  sublime  in  its  stateliness, 
inspiring  in  the  memories  it  recalls.  Here  we  are 
surrounded  by  the  names  and  the  bones  of  the 
mighty  dead.  Grouped  lovingly  in  the  Poets' 
Comer  are  poets,  dramatists,  and  authors.  Here 
rest  Chaucer,  Spenser,  Dryden,  Dr.  Johnson, 
and  jVLicaulay.  Atnid  this  great  assembly  lov- 
ing hands  have  placed  a  bust  of  Longfellow,  the 
most  widely  known  of  American  men  of  letters. 
And  thus  it  is  that  Lowell  and  Longfellow  are 
neighbors  still.  Here,  too,  within  a  few  feet  of 
the  white  marble  face  of  the  American  poet 
who  loved  the  sky  and  w-as  alive  to  the  tender 
influences  of  the  seasons,  they  brought  Tenny- 
son—  to  hold  silent  companionship  with  his  tel- 
low-singer  from  across  the  sea. 

Before  we  leave  this  hallowed  place,  let  us  read 
the  chiseled  words  on  the  Longfellow  bust : 


AMKklCAX    MKMOKIAI.S    IX    LONDON. 


102: 


This  busl  was  placed  amongst  the  memorials  of  the 
I'octs  of  England  by  the  English  admirers  of  an  Amer- 
ican Poet.      1884. 

Next,  we  must  betake  ourselves  miles  away 
from  Westminster  Abbey  to  the  Nonconformist 
Chapel  in  City  Road,  founded  and  built  by 
John  Wesley  in  1778.  Those  days  marking  the 
close  of  the  eighteenth  century  saw  the  begin- 
nings of  the  Methodist  Church.  When  its  great 
founder  and  preacher  died  in  1 791,  the  number 
of  ^lethodists  had  reached  119,000.  AVhen  the 
Ecutnenical  Council  was  held  in  City  Road, 
the  old  cradle  of  the  church,  in  1891,  the  num- 


morial  to  Matthew  Simpson,  one  of  America's 
greatest  Methodist  bishops.  This  memorial 
is  the  inspiration  of  Bishop  Vincent  and  the 
Rev.  Charles  Kelly.  The  window  was  made  in 
Munich,  and  in  glorious  colorings  represents 
St.  Paul  preaching  at  Athens ;  at  the  lower  left 
comer  there  is  a  head  of  Bishop  Simpson. 
At  the  bottom  of  the  window  are  the  words : 

Erected  by  American  Methodists  to  the  memory  of 
Hishop  Matthew  Simpson.  He  was  born  June  21, 
181 1,  and  died  June  18,  18S4.  He  was  a  holy  man, 
an  eloquent  and  mighty  preacher,  and  a  great  Bishop. 

Bishop  .Simpson  was  a  friend  and  adviser  of 


THE   NON'CONFORMIST  CHAPEL,  CONTAINING  THE   MATTHEW    SIMPSON    MEMORIAL   WINDOW. 


bcr  of  its  members  had  increased,  within  one 
hundred  years,  to  the  vast  total  of  24,899,421. 

The  old  pulpit  from  which  John  Wesley 
preached  is  still  used  there.  The  interior,  how- 
ever, has  been  greatly  modernized.  Two  of  the 
columns  supporting  the  gallery  are  contributions 
from  American  Methodists;  and  not  long  ago 
Mr.  Joseph  H.  Choate,  the  American  ambas- 
sador, unveiled  a  stained-glass  window  as  a  me- 


President  Lincoln,  and  his  patriotism,  fervor, 
and  eloquence  were  ever  active  in  the  cause  of 
the  Union.  His  name  and  fame  are  cherished 
in  Methodist  hearts  the  world  over.  It  is  fit- 
ting, then,  that  his  memory  should  be  perpetu- 
ated in  the  earlie.st  home  of  his  church. 

And  alongside  the  preacKer  we  may  well 
honor  the  great  philanthro()ist.  The  right  use 
of  wealth  becomes  a  benefit  to  the  whole  human 


I028 


AMERICAN'    MEMORIALS    IX    LONDON. 


(Sept. 


race ;  and  George  Peabody  was  indeed  one  of 
the  greatest  of  philanthropists.  He  lived  on  both 
sides  of  the  Atlantic;  he  wrought 
on  both  shores;  and  his  name  is 
held  in  honor  by  the  toilers  of 
twogreatnations.  Born  in  a  hum- 
ble four-roomed,  two-story  house 
in  Danvers,  Massachusetts,  a 
poor  lad,  he  made  his  way  from 
the  clerkship  of  a  grocery  store 
to  wonderful  financial  achieve- 
ment. Finding  a  home  and  es- 
tablishing a  business  on  these 
far  shores,  his  banking-house 
became  one  of  the  commercial 
features  of  the  metropolis.  It 
was  Peabody  who  negotiated  a 
Mle  of  Maryland  bonds  when 
all  other  financiers  failed,  and 
then  gave  his  commission  (forty 
thousand  pounds)  to  the  State. 
It  was  Peabody  who  aided  his 
home  government  when  the  red 
flame  of  war  blazed  on  her  fair 
fields.  This  man  had  a  genius 
for  making  money ;  he  had  also 
a  genius  for  bestowing  it  upon 
others.  He  lived  for  the  glory 
of  God  and  the  good  of  his  fel- 
lows. To  Danvers  he  gave  a 
library  and  equipment  costing 
$250,000.  Amid  the  awful 
stress  of  London's  poverty  his 
princely  heart  came  to  the  res- 
cue. Five  hundred  thousand 
pounds  ($2,500,000)  he  expend- 
ed for  the  housing  of  the  poor  of 
London.  These  buildings  furnish 
nearly  twelve  thousand  rooms 
and  shelter  some  twenty  thou- 
sand people.  It  was  George  Pea- 
body who  sent  Dr.  Kane  after 
Franklin,  lost  amid  the  snows  of 
the  far  North.  Queen  Victoria 
offered  to  make  him  a  baronet  and  dignify  him 
with  other  honors.  The  simple-hearted  man 
said,,  "  No;  all  I  want  is  a  letter  from  the  Queen 
that  I  can  carry  back  to  my  native  land."  The 
letter  came,  also  a  beautiful  and  costly  minia- 
ture portrait  of  the  Queen.     For  the  enlight- 


enment and  upbuilding  of  the  freed  slaves  of 
America  Peabody  gave  seven  hundred  thousand 


THE  STATl'E  OF  CEORCE  PEABODV. 


pounds  ($3,500,000),  and  the  Congress  of  the 
United  States  voted  him  a  gold  medal. 

On  the  4th  of  November,  i86g,  he  laid  all 
earthly  honors  down.  His  funeral  was  held  in 
Westminster  Abbey,  the  highest  earthly  honor 
England  can  give  the  sons  of  men.   The  Queen 


AMERICAN    MEMORIALS    IN    LONDON. 


1029 


paid  him  the  tribute  of  sending  his  body  home 
in  the  British  war-ship  Monarch. 

America  opened  wide  her  arms  to  receive  the 
dust  of  her  well-beloved  son.  In  1869  W.  W. 
Story,  the  distinguished  American  sculptor,  com- 
pleted a  marble  statue  of  him.  The  Prince  of 
Wales — now  King  Edward  VII  —  unveiled  it. 
This  statue  is  located  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
world's  mightiest  city.  The  simple  wording  on 
the  granite  base  is  eloquent : 


GEORGE   PEABODV. 

Mnccci.xix. 


His  name  is  eulogy  enough.     \s  the  poet  says: 
"  And  tongues  to  be  his  bounty  shall  rehearse 
When  all  the  breathers  of  this  world  are  dead." 

The  fascination  of  these  memorials,  the 
veneration  we  feel  for  the  men  whose  names 
they  bear  and  whose  character  helped  to  shape 
the  destinies  of  two  worlds,  brings  us  back  to 
the  glorious  old  abbey  for  a  look  at  our  loved 
Longfellow,  and  our  hearts  repeat  his  own 
familiar,  oft-quoted  and  simple  verse: 

"  Lives  of  great  men  all  remind  us 
We  can  make  our  lives  sublime, 
And  departing,  leave  behind  us 
Footprints  on  the  sands  of  time." 


THE    KILLING    OF   STORM. 

(A    True  Story.) 


Bv   Mabel  Clare  Craft. 


'HAT  a  stormy 
night  that  was  !  — 
with  wind  in  gusts 
and  the  rain  in 
splashes!  We  had 
heard  a  mournful  cry  in  a  deserted  causeway, 
and  at  the  door  found  a  woolly  puppy,  rolled 
up  like  a  hedgehog,  very  wet  and  shivery.  But 
at  last  the  long  black  curls  dried  out,  the  big 
overgrown  feet  spread  sleepily  over  the  hearth- 
rug, and  the  blue  eyes  closed  in  a  puppy's  glad 
dream. 

The  children  fed  him  by  hand  on  minced 
bread  and  milk,  and  soon  his  puppyhood 
waxed  into  doghood.  In  the  daytime  they 
coaxed  him  into  the  garden.  One  excursion 
up  and  down  the  stairs  tired  him  so  that  he 
was  glad  to  sleep  for  hours,  and  so  was  out  of 
mischief.  The  cat,  who  was  taller,  towering 
over  the  newcomer  by  a  head,  abused  him 
siiamefully,  and  the  children  had  to  look  sharp 
to  keep  her  claws  out  of  his  eyes.  For  all  of 
this  the  dog  repaid  her  with  interest,  later  on, 
when  the  tables  of  size  were  turned.  When  he 
came  his  neck  could  be  spanned  by  a  gold 
bracelet.     .\t  six  months  he  had  attained  the 


dignity  of  a  collar  and  tag,  for  he  was  now 
large  enough  to  be  attractive  to  the  dog- 
catchers. 

They  called  him  Storm,  because  he  came  in 
one ;  and  when  he  bit  holes  in  the  stockings 
and  playfully  tore  the  clothes  from  the  line,  or 
dug  up  the  roses  in  his  hours  of  ease,  looking 
for  a  last  week's  bone  at  the  root,  and  capped 
the  climax  of  his  mischief  by  chewing  up  the 
shawl  a  guest  had  hung  before  the  fire  to  dry, 
his  mistress  thought  him  well  named. 

He  was  certainly  a  bouncing  fellow.  When 
the  children  were  at  .school,  he  rode  like  a 
monarch  on  the  seat  of  a  coal-wagon,  barking 
ferociously  at  all  dogs  afoot.  But  however  far 
he  was  from  home,  he  never  failed  to  meet  the 
children  at  the  gate  at  three  o'clock.  He  had 
a  regular  engagement,  and  a  marvelous  sense 
of  time. 

As  years  went  by  Storm  reached  the  limit  of 
his  infirmities.  He  was  so  crippled  that  he 
could  scarcely  walk.  In  his  sleep  he  groaned 
dismally.  One  day  a  family  council  was  called, 
and  it  was  decided  that  it  was' cruel  to  let  poor 
old  Storm  live  longer.  All  the  dog-powders  and 
remedies  had  been  tried.     There  had  been  all 


I030 


THE    KILLING    OF    STORM. 


sorts  of  dog-cakes,  and  finally  the  family  doc- 
tor had  been  called  in. 

The  mistress  declared  that  Storm's  groans 
made  her  heart  ache,  but  she  hastened  to  add 
that  she  could  not  act  as  executioner.  The 
boys   made    exxuses   to   leave   the   room,    and 


iCft* 


■  ^ 

-     VJnJBL^'^lE!^ 

W: .    ;1 

:^':^;,>'. 

^^s^^ 

'.:^'^--:" 

kl 

' 

,."''^ 

1 
.''  '       1 

I'r  ^    ■ 

i  ')'■ 

■iA"'"'MI 

i 

i  j 

.      '';>f«'i 

'^-'"'^"^iS 

"HE    MARCHED    UP    BOLDLY    TO    WHERE    STORM    WAS    LYING." 

came  back  coughing  ostentatiouslv.  The 
neighbors  were  appealed  to,  and  at  last  one 
with  a  sufficiently  hard  heart  was  found. 
This  was  the  grown  son  of  a  farmer  who 
lived  too  far  away  to  have  known  Storm  at 
all  well. 

He  came  down  one  morning  armed  with 
his  father's  double-barreled  ducking-gun.  He 
marched  up  boldly  enough  to  where  Storm  was 


lying,  but,  stranger  as  he  was  to  the  dog,  he 
could  not  withstand  the  pathetic  look  of  appeal 
that  came  from  the  soft  eyes  of  the  faithful  old 
animal.  He  lowered  his  gun  and  valiantly  faced 
those  few  of  his  friends  who  had  followed  him 
to  the  yard  because  they  knew  his  nerve  would 
fail  him  in  the  end. 

It  was  finally  decided  that  poor  old  Storm 
should  die  by  prussic  acid.  This  was  chosen 
because  it  was  quick  and  certain,  and  the  girl- 
messenger  cried  all  the  way  to  the  drug-store 
and  back.  The  druggist  said  that  a  single  drop 
on  the  tongue  would  be  enough — so  deadly 
and   powerful   was  the  poison. 

Storm  was  taken  into  the  back  yard,  and 
we  all  fancied  we  could  see  the  reproachful 
look  in  his  eyes.  He  was  being  betrayed; 
and  he  knew  it  —  we  said. 

A  gulp,  a  swallow,  and  it  was  all  over  I  Storm 
fell  over  at  the  feet  of  his  mistress,  and  the  tears 
were  flowing  down  the  faces  of  those  who  loved 
him.  They  wished  with  all  their  hearts  that 
they  had  not  done  it,  but  had  let  him  live  out 
his  days  with  all  his  aches  and  pains.  They 
left  him  lying  there,  and  walked  around  the 
house  to  find  the  prettiest  place  in  the  garden 
in  which  to  lay  him.  They  chose  a  spot  where, 
as  a  puppy.  Storm  had  loved  to  lie  in  the  dap- 
pled shade.  In  half  an  hour  the  grave  was  dug, 
and  they  came  back  to  bury  Storm. 

He  was  not  there! 

Instead  of  lying  stiff  and  cold,  he  actually 
trotted  toward  them,  briskly  wagging  his  taill 

He  pranced,  he  twirled,  he  pawed  them. 
He  frisked  and  leaped  as  if  he  were  a  young 
dog  again. 

And  his  family?  They  covered  him  with 
embraces,  and  all  sat  down  and  cried  over  the 
(log  who  had  miraculously  come  back  to  life! 

The  neighbors  are  still  trying  to  e.xplain  it. 
Most  people  think  that  the  druggist  made  a 
mistake,  or  that  he  liked  his  little  joke  and 
did  n't  give  us  prussic  acid  at  all.  But  if 
that  is  so,  why  should  Storm  have  fallen  over 
like  a  dead  dog,  and  what  became  of  his  rheu- 
matism? The  druggist  declares  that  it  7£>as 
prussic  acid,  and  the  family  doctor  declares 
that  Storm  took  enough  to  kill  a  dozen  horses. 
But  certain  it  is  that  Storm  did  not  know  what 
was  expected  of  him. 


THE    ENTERPRISING    TAPIR. 

(.1  nonsense  jingU  of  the  jungle,  uihere  good  English  "  is  n't  spoke.") 


Lalka  E.  Richards. 


Onx'E  an  enterprising  Tapir 
Started  out  upon  a  caper 
Through  the  jungle,  jungle,  jungle 

In  the  island  of  Ceylon  ; 
And  u[)on  his  joyous  route  he 
Met  a  charming  young  Agouti, 
And  he  said  unto  the  beauty  : 

"  Shall  we  fare  together  on  ?  " 

Said  the  enterprising  Tapir, 
'  Life  is  fleeting  like  a  vapor, 
But  't  would  brighten,  lighten,  brighten 

If  I  passed  it  at  your  side. 
Oh,  my  charming  young  Agouti, 
You  shall  live  on  tutti-frutti, 
If  you  '11  only 
Be  the  lonely 
Tapir's  bright  and  blooming  bride !  " 


But  the  Agouti  '-diil  nt  sec  if  — 

Said  "not  much  she  would  n't  be  it"; 

And  she  mocked  him,  shocked  him,  mocked  him, 

Till  he  felt  inclined  to  faint. 
And  he  raised  an  anguished  clamor 
At  her  woeful  lack  of  grammar 
When  she  said  :  "  What !  marryin'  tapirs  ? 

Well,  I  rather  guess  I  ain't ! '' 

And  his  grief  was  so  tremendous, 
.\nd  his  rage  was  so  stupendous, 
That  he  darted,  started,  darted 

Through  the  jungle  with  a  yell ; 
And  perhaps  the  Oongo  got  liim, 
And  perhaps  the  Shongo  shot  liim. 
You  cannot  be 
Informed  by  me; 
I  promised  not  to  tell ! 


w/jd' 
*  n'CEXCE 


"AS  FLAT  A3  A   FLOUNDER." 

Flounders  are  among  the  commonest,  best 
knorni,    and   most    remarkable   of    salt-water 

fishes.     WhEe    most    abundant    in    northern 


NEWLY   HATCHED   FLOCSDEH3- 

Tliey  3IC  energy  transparent,  except  the  eves,  and  swim 
vertkaJly,  with  the  head  toward  the  sm^ce. 


waters,  they  are  fotmd  also  in  the  tempterate 
and  tropical  regions,  and  are  so  widely  dis- 
tributed that  there  is  scarcely  a  sea-shore  or  bay 
anywhere  in  the  world  which  does  not  have  one 
or  more  representatives  of  the  flounder  family 
The  largest  and  most  imponant  of  the  flounders 
is  the  halibut,  which  attains  a  weight  of  four 
hundred  pounds,  and  is  much  sought  by  the 
fishermen  of  the  United  States,  Canada,  Great 
Britain,  France,  Xorway,  Japan,  and  other 
countries  of  the  north  temperate  zone.  The 
flounders  are  bottom-loving  fishes,  and  pass 


most  of  their  lives  Mng  on  one  side,  either  on 
or  partly  buried  in  sand  or  mud,  at  depths 
ranging  from  a  few  feet  to  several  thousand 
feet.  As  the  food  of  flounders  must  always  be 
sought  above  them,  and  as  their  enemies  alwavs 
come  from  above,  these  fishes  would  have  no 
use  for  an  eye  on  their  imder  side,  hence 
both  eyes  are  on  one  side  of  the  head.  The 
under  surface  of  the  body,  being  out  of  sight, 
has  no  marked  color,  while  the  upper  surface  is 
richly  pigmented,  the  shade  and  pattern  of  col- 
oration corresponding  with  the  nature  of  the 
bottom  on  which  the  fishes  may  rest. 

The  expression  "  as  flat  as  a  flounder "  has 
become  proverbial,  but  it  does  not  apply  to 


THREE   STAGES   ES"  THE   LIFE  OF  A  YOCNC   LEFT-StDED   FLOCWDEE. 

la  the  bottom  figure  the  light  ey%  is  seen  coming  aromid  the  &oot 
of  the  bead  to  take  its  place  beade  the  lelt  eye^ 


NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


Other  eye.  In  some  flounders  the  eye 
moves  around  the  front  of  tlie  head ;  in 
others  it  moves  directly  through  the  head. 
This  shifting  of  the  eye's  position  is  ac- 
companied by  a  change  in  the  position 
.  of  the  body,  which  ceases  to  be  upright 
and  becomes  more  and  more  oblique. 
The  side  of  the  body  from  wliich  the  eye 
is  moving  gradually  becomes  inferior  to 
the  other,  until  by  the  time  the  change 
of  the  eye  is  complete  the  fish  swims 
with  its  blind  side  underneath,  and  this 
position  is  ever  after  maintained.  The 
flounder  then  ceases  its  free-swimming 
habit  and  sinks  to  the  bottom. 

Some  species  of  flounders  are  right- 
sided  and  others  are  left-sided.     In  the 
„         ,.-•,,  1   ,k     6    _  k      ;,        k    V        •.  right-sided  forms,  the  left  eve  moves  to 

Inis  IS  a  leli-sidcd  spcacs.    In  these  ngures  the  n^^ht  eye  h-is  begun  its  pas-         °  ' 

sage  across  the  furehead  to  the  left  side.    The  dark  spot  belou  the  right  eye  in     the  right  side,   and  the  left  side  bcCOmeS 
the  upper  figure  is  the  left  eye  seen  through  the  transparent  head.  " 


THE   WINDOW 


very  young  flounders,  which  differ  so  much 
from  the  adult  ones  that  they  can  hardly  be 
recognized  as  belonging  to  the  .same  family  as 
their  parents.  Most  boys  and  girls  are  familiar 
with  full-grown  flounders,  but  very  few  of 
them,  and  few  older  people,  know  anything 
about  the  appearance  of  young  flounders  and 
the  wonderful  transformations  they  undergo. 
In  spring  and  summer  it  is  possible  for  young 
nature  students  to  secure  specimens  of  newly 
hatched  flounders  by  dragging  a  fine-mesh  net 
on  sunny  days  when  the  water  is  smooth.  Such 
specimens  may  easily  be  kept  alive  in  dishes 
of  salt  water,  and  examined  from  time  to  time 
witli  a  low-power  microscope. 

The  flounders  begin  life  as  do  ordinary  fishes. 
When  they  first  emerge  from  the  egg  they  swim 
vertically,  with  the  head  turned  upward.  Their 
bodies  arc  svmmetrical,  and  their  eves  are  on 
opposite  sides  of  the  head.  Gradually  the  posi- 
tion of  the  body  changes  from  vertical  to  hori- 
zontal, and  the  fish  remain  thus  for  some  time, 
swimming  like  ordinary  fishes ;  but  while  still 
very  small  there  is  foreshadowing  of  the  bottom 
life  they  are  destined  for,  and  they  enter  upon 
a  series  of  remarkable  changes.  The  most 
striking  of  these  changes  is  in  the  position  of 
the  eye.  The  eye  of  one  side  or  the  other 
slowly  but  steadily  moves  over  to  the  opposite 
side  of  the  head  and  takes  a  place  beside  the 
Vol.  XXXI. — 130-131. 


undermost.  In  the  left-sided  species  the 
opposite  conditions  prevail.  It  rarely  happens 
that  right-sided  species  have  left-sided  individ- 
uals, and  vice  versa.  In  a  few  species  both 
righl-sided  and  left-sided  fish  occur  in  about 
equal  numbers. 

Soon  after  hatching,  the  flounder's  color  be- 
gms  to  appear  in  the  form  of  small  star-shaped 
masses  of  pigment  on  the  body,  head,  and  fins. 
These  increase  in  number  as  the  flounder  grows, 


STAGES   IN   THE    LIFE    OF   A    YOUNG    RIGHT-SIDED    FLOUNDER. 

Showing  change  in  the  position  of  the  left  eye. 


I034 


NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


[Sept. 


■■m. 


■^^ 


'Hi 


Si 


THE    WINTER    FLOUNDER    (pSEUDOPLBlfRONECTES  AMBRlCAS'l'S). 

A  typical  right-sided  flounder  of  the  Atlantic  coast  of  the  United  States, 


V>\\,,,  MISS  SUSAN   FACING-BOTHWAYS. 

■  " From  "  Pilgrim's  Progress  "  we  learn 

that  Mr.  Facing-bothways  lived  in  the 
town  of  "  Fair-speech."  Miss  Facing- 
bothways  seems  a  good  name  for  this — 
or  these  daisies.  Together,  they  intend 
evidently  to  see  all  there  is  to  be  seen ; 
but  how  do  they  manage  to  face  the  sun 
after  the  manner  of  other  daisies? 

It  is  hard  to  tell  whether  they  are  good 
friends  who  mean  to  back  each  other  up 

■  and  an  important  food-fish  in  New  England  and  New  York.  through   life,    Or  are   enemies    giving   Cach 

and  finally  run  together  and  give  to  the  fish  its    other  the  "  cold  shoulder."      Their  success  in 

peculiar  pattern  of  coloration.     The  pigmen-    blooming,  however,  shows  that  they  are  very 

tation   of  the  under  side  begins  to  disappear    good  friends. 

soon  after  the   eye  changes  its  position,  and 

when   the  bottom-living   stage  is  reached  no  ....,-. 

color  remains  on  the  blind  side  of  the  fish. 

U.  S.  Bureat,  of  Fisheries,       HuGH   M.   SMITH. 
Washington,  1>.  C. 

The  flounder  fishery  is  carried  on  chiefly  during  tlie 
winter  and  spring  months,  large  quantities  being  taken. 
As  a  food-fish  the  winter  flounder  holds  a  very  high 
rank  ;  the  flesh  is  white,  firm,  and  of  excellent  flavor. 
Next  to  the  halibut  it  is  the  most  important  flatfish  of 
our  Atlantic  coast.  This  species  has  been  more  exten- 
sively propagated  tlian  any  other  member  of  the  family. 
The  United  States  Fish  Commission  obtains  the  eggs  at 
Woods  Hole,  where  its  propagation  fills  in  the  time  be- 
tween the  taking  of  the  cod  on  the  one  hand  and  the 
lobster  on  the  other.  The  number  of  fry  hatched  in 
1900,  at  Woods  Hole,  exceeded  87,000,000,  which  were 
planted  at  various  points  along  the  New  Engl.and  coast. 


THE  BLACK-EYED  SUSANS. 


-1  HE    WINDOW-PANE  FLOUNDER    {loPHOPSETTA    MACfLATA). 

A  typical  left-sided  flounder  of  the  east  coast  of  the  tJnited  States.     It  is  called  "window- 
pane  "  and  "  daylight  "  by  fishermen  because  it  is  exceedingly  thin  and  transparent. 


Goethe  advised  scientific  men  to  study  un- 
usual and  abnormal  growths  to  find  out  how 
nature  works.  These  flowers  are 
already  made  up  of  hundreds  of 
smaller  flowers  that  have  been 
packed  into  single  heads  and 
adapted  to  life  in  a  community. 
Does  this  double  community 
„  ^  prove  that  in  some  future  ages 

"^i"   -    -,  ^  «r    even  the  communities  will  unite 
H-^i — --CU...?;  and  become  a  sort  of  nation? 

^       -*!       All" 

■,  ,--*"    "tT"^'     Will  all  daisies  become  one? 

But,  however  that  mav  be,  the 
great  puzzle  is  the  one  already 
mentioned — how  can  both  face 
the  sun,  or  how  can  either  thrive 
without  facing  the  sun?  Who 
else  has  found  these  twin 
daisies? 

Tudor  Jenks. 


>904-l 


NATURE    AND    SCIEN'CE    FOR    YOUNG    I'OLKS. 


•035 


THE  DECEIVED 
HUMMING-BIRD. 

A  FEW  years  ago 
I  saw  a  humming- 
bird do  what  seemed 
to  me  a  very  strange 
thing.  One  pleasant 
Sunday  morning  I 
was  sitting  with  our 
choir  in  church,  fa- 
cing the  congrega- 
tion. I  had  been 
noticing  for  some 
time  that  several 
of  the  people  who 


nearly  dead  lying  on  a  window-sill  in  the  church. 
He  took  it  home  and  fed  it  a  little  honey,  and, 
when  it  got  strong  enough  to  fly,  let  it  go  to 
seek  its  home  nest. 

MaRV    AUdUSTA. 
AN  EGG-SHELL  GARDEN. 


It  is  easy  to  have  an  egg-shell  garden. 
Carefully  cut  oflE  the  end  of  the  egg  for  about 
one  third  of  its  length,  treating  it  with  more 
respect  than  the  cook  does,  for  she  breaks  it  in 
two  in  the  middle  by  cracking  it  on  the  edge 
of  the  cup.  Fill  the  shell  with  good  earth, 
and  plant  almost  any  seed  that  you  like.  If 
the  plant-food  supplied  in  tablets  by  Nature 
and  Science  is  used,  the  shells  may  be  filled 
with  sawdust  or  with  gravel.  Plants  artificially 
fed  in  sawdust  do  not  seem  to  require  so 
W  ^^^^^?^^  many  roots  as  when  they  grow  in  soil.     With 

^^  \      yf    ,  "'  the  limited  space  in  the  egg-shell,  sawdust  and 

the  plant-food  are  therefore  preferable  to  soil. 
It  is  not  difficult  to  have  plants  grow  in  saw- 
dust until  they  are  more  than  two  feet  high, 
although  there  is  so  little  space  in  the  shell 
for  the  roots. 

To  support  these  unique,  round-bottomed 
"flower-pots,"  it  will  be  found  convenient  to 
happened  to  be  seated  near  the  windows  were  have  a  board  with  holes  bored  in  it  just  large 
smiling  and  looking  interested  about  something,  enough  to  have  the  egg-shells  set  firmly,  one  in 
As  I  glanced  in  their  direction  again  I  saw  the  each  hole.  Don't  get  the  holes  too  near  to- 
innocent  cause  of  their  amusement,  and  did  not    gether.      Punch  a  small  hole  down  through  the 


THE  DECEIVED  HUM.MING-HIKD. 


It  made  the  mistake  of  thinking  that  the  artificial  flowers  on  the 
ladies*  hats  were  a  real  flower-garden,  and  very  naturally  went  seek- 
ing for  honey. 


wonder  that  they  were  not  as  serious  and  at 
tentive  to  the  sermon  as  usual. 

A  humming-bird  had  come  in  at  an 
open  window,  and,  deceived  by  the  bright 
flowers  on  the  ladies'  hats,  was  trying  to 
extract  honey  from  thehi,  going  from  hat 
to  hat  all  over  the  church,  choosing  the 
brightest-colored  flowers.  As  I  sat  facing 
the  people,  I  could  hardly  help  noticing 
the  start  of  surprise  that  several  ladic> 
gave  when  the  little  creature  darted  un- 
expectedly round  to  the  front  of  the  hat, 
where  they  saw  it  for  the  first  time.  There 
were  natural  flowers  on  the  jiulpit  and  or- 
gan, and  the  humming-bird  visited  them 
several  times,  getting,  I  hope,  more  honey 
from  them  than  from  those  on  the  ladies' 
hats.  The  next  day  our  minister's  son 
found  the  poor  little  thins;  exhausted  and 


shell  for  drainage. 


A.N    EGU-SHELL  OAKDEN. 


The  egg-shells  are  filled  with  sawdust.  The  plants  that  grow  so  luxuri- 
antly are  com,  oats,  millet,  lupines,  and  sandy  vetch.  The  last  is  the  climb- 
ing plant  in  the  rear. 


1036  NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS 

"WE  WILL  WRITE  TO  ST.  NICHOLAS  ABOUT  IT." 


[Sept. 


CAN   FISH   TALK? 


MOVEMENT    OF    A    DEAD    BRANCH. 

IJA.NGOR,  Me. 
Dear  St.  Nicholas  :  Last  summer  in  my  daily  walks 
through  near-by  woods  I  was  in  the  habit  of  passing 
by  a  certain  tree,  and  I  noticed  tliat  in  damp,  foggy 
weather,  or  after  a  rain, 
I  could  pass  under  a 
dead  branch  which 
reached  across  the  path 
without  even  bowing 
my  head;  but  in  dry 
weather  I  had  to  stoop 
quite  low  to  get  under 
it.  The  branch  was  on 
a  spruce-tree,  and  grew 
on  the  tree  at  about  the 
height  of  my  head. 
Sometimes  on  wet  days 
the  spruce-trees  would 
look  as  if  they  were 
being  pulled  up  by  their 
roots,  so  straight  up 
would  the  branches  be 
drawn.  Can  you  ex- 
plain the  reason  for 
this?     Yours  truly, 

Dorothy  A.  Baldwin- 


I  find  record  of  similar  obser- 
vations on  the  dead  limbs  in  a 
recently  published  book,"  A  Her- 
mit'sWild  Friends,"  by  Mason  A. 
Walton,  who  lived  for  eighteen 
years  in  a  hut  in  the  woods  of 
Gloucester,  Massachusetts. 


DAMl'  DA\ 
AFTER  DR\ 
WEATHER. 


Another  thing  tliat  has  puzzled  me  is 
the  behavior  of  dead  pine-limbs.  One  would  sup- 
pose a  dead  limb  ought  to  remain  decently  quiet 
and  not  move  about  like  some  living  thing.  I  had 
occasion  to  make  a  path  through  a  thick  growth 
of  small  pines.  The  dead  limbs  extended  on  eacli 
tree  from  the  ground  to  a  height  of  ten  feet.  I 
broke  off  the  limbs  so  I  could  pass  under  them  with- 
out trouble.  After  the  path  was  completed  it  turned 
cold  for  two  days.  When  I  undertook  to  pass  that  way 
during  the  cold  spell,  the  dead  limbs  were  so  much  de- 
pressed that  I  w-as  obliged  to  break  the  path  anew. 

I  experimented  on  dead  limbs  at  different  times,  and 
found  it  was  a  fact  that  lifeless  pine-limbs  will  fall  in 
cold  and  rise  in  warm  weather.  I  am  unable  to  give  a 
reason  for  this  movement. 

Here  is  an  excellent  new  field  for  observa- 
tion. Professor  Ganong,  an  eminent  botanist, 
has  recently  discovered  that  movements  of  liv- 
ing branches  are  due  to  changes  in  temperature. 


Dear  St.  Nicholas:  Can  fish  talk  to  each  other? 
Please  answer  in  Nature  and  Science.  I  have  four 
goldfish.  I  like  so  to  watch  them.  One  day  when  I 
was  changing  the  water,  Silversides  rubbed  against  my 
finger.  George  B.   Patterson   (age  8). 

Fishes  undoubtedly  communicate  with  their 
fellows.  Even  if  they  cannot  "  talk,"  they 
have  other  means  of  communication  that  are 
better  adapted  to  their  needs.  We  know  how 
readily  fishes  recognize  their  mate.s,  and  how 
quickly  brooding  fishes  repel  intruders  of  their 
own  or  other  species.  Something  besides 
seeing  them,  perhaps  some  sense  of  which 
we  have  no  conception,  may  do  this. 
Many  fishes  communicate  with 
their  fellows  by  means  of  sounds 
produced  through  the  medium  of 
their  air-bladders,  by  grinding  their 
teeth  together,  and  in  various  other 
wavs. 

The  sense  of  touch  is  highly  de- 
veloped in  many  fishes, 
and  doubtless  enables 
them  to  communicate. 
The  sense  of  taste,  lo- 
cated all  over  the  skin 
in  some  fishes,  in  the 
fins  in  others,  and  the 
sense  of  smell,  strong- 
ly developed  in  some 
forms  of  submarine 
life,  also  must  be  aids 
to   communication. 

These    queer    loca- 
tions of  the  sense  of 
taste     have     recently 
been     verv     carefully 
itKv  dk;.  Studied. 

A  WORM  — NOT  "a  HORSEHAIR  TURNED  TO  A  SNAKE." 

Bro.admour,  Colorado  Springs,  Col. 

My  DE.A.R  St.  Nicholas  :  I  was  wading  in  one  of 
our  mountain  streams  a  few  days  ago,  and  would  often 
reach  in  the  water  before  me  with  a  stick.  As  I  lifted 
the  stick  from  the  water,  a  queer  little  black  thing,  about 
eight  inches  long,  hung  over  the  end.  It  greatly  re- 
sembled a  horsehair,  being  very  little  wider.  As  I  first 
looked,  I  thought  it  was  a  piece  of  black  thread,  and 
was  about  to  throw  it  back  into  the  water,  when  one  end 
moved  a  very  little. 

I  tlien  laid  the  stick  on  the  b.ank  and  examined  the 


I 


i9o<l 


NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


'O37 


tiny  snake  closely.     It  proved  to  have  a  head  about  the 
size  of  the  he."id  of  a  pin,  and  once  on  the  ground,  it 


A     HAIR-WORM    (ALSO 
CAl.LKn  HORSEHAIR- 

SNAKE),    LIFTED     FROM 
THE   WATER. 

It  is  A  true  womi,  not 
a  snake. 


coiled  up  like  a  large  .snake.      1  hope  you  will 
explain  what  this  queer  little  cre.-iture  is. 
Very  truly  yours, 
H'-'ATRICK  D.  Wki'mork  (age  13). 

Your  interesting  find  was  the  liair- 
worm  Gi'niiiis,  often  called  liorsehair- 
snake.  They  are  not  common,  but  are 
sometimes  found  in  numbers  together. 
Little  is  understood  as  yet  concerning 
the  life  histories  of  these   tjueer  crea- 

Vtures.  From  the  fact  that  they  are  found 
in  horse-troughs,  there  is  a  not  uncom- 
mon notion  among  less  intelligent  folks  that  a 
horsehair  thrown  into  the  water  will  turn  into  a 
slender  "snake."  This,  of  course,  is  entirely 
incorrect.  The  worm  has  nothing  whatever 
to  do  with  a  horsehair. 

DO  ANTS  CALL    FOR   HELP? 

R(i.\i!iRV,  Mass. 
I)E.\R  St.  Nicholas:  I  want  to  tell  you  about  some 
ants  I  saw  last  summer.  I  was  out  in  the  yard  one 
morning,  when  I  noticed  some  little  black  ants  crawling 
along  on  the  top  of  the  fence.  Tliere  were  a  great 
many  of  them  tr.iveling  in  both  directions,  and  when 
one  ant  met  another  it  would  double  itself  up  and  stop 
an  instant,  just  as  if  they  were  saying  good  morning  to 
each  other.  While  I  was  watching  these  interesting 
little  creatures,  I  saw  one  that  was  walking  along  sud- 
denly stop  and  seem  to  call  for  help.  Several  other 
ants  came  hurrying  tow.ard  this  one  at  once.  They  felt 
it  all  over  and  rubbed  its  lie.ad  ;  then  sent  away  one  of 
their  comrades,  which  soon  returned  with  another  ant,  a 
doctor,  I  imagined.  This  one  st.iyed  a  few  minutes, 
then  went  .away,  while  the  remaining  ants  stood  up 
straight  around  the  poor  helpless  one  and  appeared 
greatly  distressed.  In  a  few  minutes  they  carried  this 
little  ant  away  to  their  home.  I  suppose  he  must  have 
died.      This  sounds  like  a  fairy  story,  but  it  is  true. 


I    should   like  very  much    to    know  why  these   ants 
double  themselves  up  when  they  meet  each  other. 
Your  interested  reader, 

Elsie  Fisher  Steimieimkr. 

Ants  often  get  assistance,  but  by  what  means 
has  not  been  discovered. 

.•\n  an  twill  frequently  leave  its  prize  and  search 
for  the  way  to  the  nest,  returning  to  the  load 
when  the  way  is  found.  If  an  ant  makes  a 
find  that  it  cannot  at  all  handle,  it  will  often 
gnaw  off  a  portion  and  carry  it  to  the  nest. 


ants  boring  in  wood. 

Chicago,  Ii.t.. 
Dear  St.  Nicholas:  .>\s  I  was  walking  under  some 
trees  the  other  day,  I  saw  that  something  which  looked 
like  sawilust  was  falling  from  a  tree  near  me  and  cov- 
ered the  ground  nearly  a  foot  outward  on  one  side  of 
the  tree.  I  thought  that  a  branch  had  been  cut  off 
from  the  tree  and  that  some  of  the  sawdust  was  still 
Iieing  blown  a\\'ay. 

-As  I  looked  up  I  saw  instead  son)C  black  ants.  Most 
of  them,  I  think,  were  over  half  .m  inch  long.  They 
were  going  in  and  out  of  two  small  crevices  in  the  tree. 
I  was  immediately  interested,  and  stopped  to  watch 
them.  One  after  another  they  c.ime  from  the  two 
crevices,  and,  going  out  far  enough  so  that  the  particles 
would  not  fall  on  the  tree,  they  dropped  them  to  the 
ground,  and  then  went  back  after  more. 

It  was  four  days  ago  that  I  was 
watching  these  ants  ;  but  I  noticed 
this   afternoon,   after  it' had  been 
raining,  that  some  of  the 
ants  were  picking  up  the 
small  jiarticles  of  wood 
that  were  sticking  to  the 
tree  and  were  dropping 
them  to  the  ground. 
They  evidently  have 

something 

that   is    sharp 

about       them 

to  be  able  to 

work    into    a 

tree.   I  should 

like  to   know 

what  kind  of 

ants  these  are 

and  why  they 

make        their 

nest  in  a  trei 

instead  of   in 

the  ground. 
I    am    glad 

that  vou  have        caki*entkr-ant  carrving  a  dead  roach. 
.  _     .  The  ant  will  take  it  to  tKe  top  of  a  weed  in  its 

so   inlcrestmg      efTons  to  locate  the  nest  or  to  find  the  path  to 

a  Nature  and       t^c  nest._    Upon  reaching  the  top.  after  a  deal  of 

„    .  ,  trouble,  it  will  bring  its  burden  down  again  on 

science        de-      ,1,^  other  side  of  the  weed. 


io;8 


NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


[Sept. 


^^^^^ 


4-^'A_- 


AN    ATTEMPT  TO    LAPTl'lJE    A    BIG    PRIZE. 

Black  carpenter-ant  attacking  a  caterpillar.    Though  thi5  may  prove  too  great 


an  undertaking,  even  with  assistance  close  at  hand,  the  fearless  ant  never  hesi-    stronr^  for  their  size, 
tales  in  making  the  attack.     In  a  few  minutes  a  dozen  or  more  ants  may  swarm  .^    *  ,  , 


large  .is  itself.  The  ant  crawled  backward  and 
pulled  the  bug  along  by  one  of  its  many  legs. 
It  pulled  it  along  the  sidewalk  for  a  few  yards 
and  then  went  into  the  grass,  where  another 
ant  came  and  pulled  it,  while  the  other  ant  went, 
I  think,  for  assistance,  but  none  came  while  I 
was  there.  I  think  the  ant  that  pulled  the  bug 
last  was  a  mother,  because  it  went  fast,  and  as 
it  was  near  dinner-time,  she  thought  she  would 
have  to  get  soinething  ready  for  her  children. 
Sometimes  she  would  have  very  hard  times 
getting  the  bug  over  a  stick,  and  sometimes 
I  put  it  over  for  her.  One  time  the  bug  fell 
into  the  gutter,  and  down  went  the  ant  after  it. 
I  guess  that  if  she  lost  this  bug  she  would  be 
punished  when  she  got  home.  From  what  I 
have  seen  of  ants,  I  think  they  must  be  very 


upon  the  poor  caterpillar  and  tear  it  to  pieces. 

partment  to  which  we  rnay  come  with  questions  on  these 
subjects.  I  hope  that  you  will  be  able  to  tell  me  about 
the  ants.     Sincerely  your  reader, 

M.\RY  H.  Ferry. 

Ants  are   social  insects,  living  always  in  a 


Good-by. 


K.\TH.\RIN'E  Brow.m  (age  12). 


Brookly.v,  N.  Y. 
T)e.\r    St.   Nicholas:  While  walking  in   Prospect 
Park  the  other  day  I  saw  something  which  might  prove 
of  interest  to  you  and  the  young  observers.    A  large  ant 
was  dragging  away  an  insect  nearly  twice  the  size  of  it- 
colony,  and  they  frequently  make  their  nests  in      self.    The  insect,  which  looked  like  a  bee,  was  attached  to 


beetle-borings  in  wood,  and  also  are  able  to 
cut  holes  into  wood. 

ants  carrying  baby  ants. 

Webster  Groves,  Mo. 
Dear  St.  Nichol.\S  :  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question  : 
Why  do  ants,  when  moving,  always  carry  something 
white  from  one  place  to  another,  and,  when  they  get 
there,  go  down  in  their  holes  and  bring  up  a  lump  of 
dirt?  .\nts  are  sometimes  more  polite  than  we  are. 
Yours  truly,         Hugh  Fellows. 

The  mother  ant  is  the  queen.  She  rarely 
leaves  the  nest.  The  building,  preparing,  or 
extending  of  the  nest,  the  gathering  of  the  food, 
and  the  caring  for  the  young  are  carried  on  by 
the  workers,  who  constantly  labor  for  the  wel- 
fare of  the  whole  colony.  The  food  generally 
consists  of  insects  or  other  animal  matter  (and, 
with  some  species,  of  seeds  and  vegetable  mat- 
ter). When  this  food  is  collected  the  workers 
prepare  and  feed  it  to  the  baby  ants,  little  white  nation  of  wisdom  and  foolish- 
grub-like  larvae,  which  they  also  protect  and  ness  with  which  naturalists  are 
move  about  as  occasion  demands.  It  is  these  familiar.  They  do  the  brightest 
grub-like  larvse  that  you  describe  as  "some- 
thing white." 


a  splinter  of  wood  about  seven  eighths  of  an  inch  long. 
The  ant  struggled  with  its  burden,  sometimes  pushing 
and  at  other  times  pulling,  until  it  had  gone  about  ten 
feet  across  the  gravel  path.  I  now  touched  the  ant  with 
my  pencil,  and  it  ran  away  for  a  few 
minutes,  but  soon  returned  to  its  work 
and  commenced  to  tug  its  prize  in  an- 
other direction  toward  a  tree. 

When  it  had  reached  the  foot  of  the 
tree,  it  made  its  way  into  a  small  hollow 
space  at  its  root.  Here  it  was  met  by 
three  or  four  other  ants,  and,  with  their 
help,  it  soon  pushed  the  insect  into  a 
hole  and  followed  it  in.  I  saw  no  more 
of  either  the  ants  or  the  insect.  Before 
pushing  it  in  the  hole,  the  ants  took  the 
splinter  of  wood  from  the  insect.  I 
like  your  Nature  and  Science  depart- 
ment very  much  indeed. 

Your  observing  reader, 
Marion  II.  Tcthiil  (age  12). 


Ants  are  the  queerest  combi- 


ANTS    DRAGGING    INSECTS. 


New  Rochelle,  N.  Y. 
Dear  St.  Nicholas  :  When  walking  from  school  I 
saw  an  ant  which  had  a  big  bug  about  three  times  as 


and  the  silliest  things  imaginable. 
When  we  study  them  closely,  the 
manner  in  which  they  manage 
their  affairs  commands  our  admi- 
ration. But  chance  observations 
of  some  of  their  queer  wavs  has 


IM.MATLRE  ANTS. 
Lar^-a,  pupa, 
and  cocoon  of  the 
black  carpenter- 
ant  (Campomitus 
Pen  risylvatttcus) . 


I 


"904l 


NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


1039 


»^L'EEN  OF  THE    GLACK  CARPENTER-ANT 

{CAMPOXOTtS  PEXySiL I'-LV/Ct-S). 

(MAGNIFIED.) 


brought  ihe  ant 
character  and  in- 
telligence into 
ridicule.  Mark 
Twain  has  writ- 
ten an  excellent 
description  of  the 
foolish  things  that 
ants  do : 


During  many 

summers,  now,  I 
have  watched  him 
[says  Mr.  Clemens],  when  I  ought  to  have  been  in  bet- 
ter business,  and  I  have  not  yet  come  across  a  living  ant 
that  seemed  to  have  any  more  sense  than  a  dead  one. 
.  .  .  I  admit  his  industry,  of  course ;  he  is  the 
hardest-working  creature  in  the  world, — when  anybody 
is  looking, — but  his  leather-headedness  is  the  point  I 
make  against  him.  He  goes  out  foraging,  he  makes  a 
capture,  and  then  what  does  he  do?  Go  home?  No, — 
he  goes  anywhere  but  home.  lie  does  n't  know  where 
home  is.  His  home  may  be  only  three  feet  away, —  no 
matter,  he  can't  find  it.  He  makes  his  capture,  as  I 
have  said ;  it  is  generally  something  which  can  be  of  no 
sort  of  use  to  himself  or  anybody  else;  it  is  usually 
seven  times  bigger  than  it  ought  to  be ;  he  hunts  out 
the  awkwardest  place  to  take  hold  of  it ;  he  lifts  it 
bodily  up  into  the  air  by  main  force,  and  starts,  not 
toward  home,  but  in  the  opposite  direction ;  not  calmly 
and  wisely,  but  with  a  frantic  haste  which  is  wasteful  of 
his  strength ;  he  fetches  up  against  a  pebble,  and  in- 
stead of  going  around  it,  he  climbs  over  it  backwards, 
dragging  his  booty  after  him,  tumbles  down  on  the  other 
side,  jumps  up  in  a  passion,  kicks  the  dust  off  his  clothes, 
moistens  his  hands,  grabs  his  property  viciously,  yanks 
it  this  way,  then  that,  shoves  it  ahead  of  him  a  mo- 
ment, turns  tail  and  lugs  it  after  him  a  moment,  gets 
madder,  then  presently  hoists  it  into  the  air  and  goes 
tearing  away  in  an  entirely  new  direc- 
tion ;  comes  to  a  weed ;  it  never  occurs 
to  him  to  go  around  it,  he  must  climb 
it ;  and  he  does  climb  it,  dragging  his 
worthless  property  to  the  top — which  is  as 
bright  a  thing  to  do  as  it  would  be  for  me  to 
carry  a  sack  of  flour  from  Heidelberg  to 
Paris  by  way  of  Strasburg  steeple ;  when 
he  gets  up  there  he  finds  that  it  is  not  the 
place ;  takes  a  cursory  glance  at  the  scenery 
and  either  climbs  down  again  or  tumbles 
down,  and  starts  off  once  more — as  usual 
in  a  new  direction.  At  the  end  of  half 
an  hour  he  fetches  up  within  six  inches  of 
the  place  he  started  from  and  lays  his  bur- 
den down.  .  .  .  After  continuing  this 
charmingly  aimless  work  for  some  time 
and  meeting  another  ant  and  lighting  him 
about  nothing,  each  starts  off  in  a  differ- 
ent direction  to  see  if  he  can't  find  an  old 


nail  or  something  else  that  is  heavy  enough  to  afford 
entertainment  and  at  the  same  time  valueless  enough 
to  make  an  ant  want  to  own  it. 

This,  of  course,  humorously  tells  us  only  of  the 
foolish  doings  of  ants.  Owing  to  the  fact  that 
ants  have  little  or  no  sight,  possessing  only  the 
sense  of  smell  to  guide  them,  they  can  have  no 
broad  knowledge  of  their  surroundings  and  of 
direction  such  as  bees  and  hornets  have,  and 
thus  they  depend  on  following  paths  to  and 
from  their  nests.  When  away  from  these  paths 
they  must  wander  about  to  find  them  again, 
and  if  they  have  found  a  bulky  prize  this  often 
means  a  series  of  laborious  and  seemingly  need- 
less adventures.  They  turn  first  this  way,  then 
that,  come  to  an  obstacle,  and,  having  no  in- 
formation about  its  size,  surmount  it  instead  of 
going  around  it.  Thus  they  will  climb  a  weed 
or  a  fence-post,  going  up  one  side  and  down 
the  other,  taking  hours  in  tlie  effort,  when  an 
inch  or  two  would  have  gotten  them  around  it. 

But  from  another  point  of  view  we  may  re- 
gard them  as  very  wise  little  creatures.  Ants 
have  a  colony  organization  superior  to  bees  or, 
in  fact,  to  that  of  any  other  animal,  e.xcept  man. 
Some  species  make  war,  or  mutually  observe 
conditions  of  peace  with  those  of  adjoining 
colonies.  Others  capture  and  keep  slaves  and 
depend  upon  their  labor.  Many  kinds  keep  or 
protect  herds  of  plant-lice  for  the  honeydew. 
Others  harvest  crops  of  seeds ;  and  one  spe- 
cies has  been  observed  to  prepare  the  ground 
and  plant  the  seed  for  the  crop. 


CARPENTER-ANTS   ASSISTING  (?)    EACH    OTHER    Wli«    A    DEAD    Sl-lUhK. 

Each  anl  has  ils  own  notion  as  to  the  direction  of  the  nest,  antl  these  ideas  fre- 
quently differ.  A  good-natured  tug  of  war  follows,  and  little  progress  is  made  until 
the  piize  is  ton]  apart  or  one  ant  becomes  discouraged. 


mmm 


1 


NSl^Si'* 


»}»,rii 


A    HEADl.NL,    1-OU    SEPTEMBER."       BY    HLGH    bPENCEK,    AGE    lO.       (GOLD    BADGE.) 


GOOD-BV: 


MARY  TRAVIS    HEWARD,    AGE    I5.       (Go/d  Badge:) 


The  rose  that  swayed  all  summer 
long 

Has  fallen  from  its  stem, 
An(l,hus)ied  is  now  the  linnet's  song, 

Vet  we  remember  them. 
The  smile  of  many  a  summer  sun 

Still  lingers  in  the  sky, 
Hut  autumn  weather  has  begun  — 

O  summer  clays,  good-by! 


Now  many  another  stranger  face 

Shall  throng  the  school-house  door, 
And  other  maids  shall  take  the  place 

Of  those  who  went  before ; 
And  only  the  fast-fleeting  years 

Can  tell  the  reason  why, 
For  Time  has  changed  the  smiles  to 
tears  — 

O  happy  days,  good-Iiy ! 


Xow  wintry  looks  the  world  to  me, 

And  wintry  blows  the  blast. 
But  in  the  golden  dawn  we  see 

The  faces  of  the  past. 
The  stream  that  looked  so  deep  be- 
fore 

Now  shallow  seems,  and  nigh  ; 
The  ship  is  waiting  at  the  shore — 

O  summer  world,  good-by! 


The  incidents  of  the  Louisiana 
League  publication  this  month  ar 
Of  course,  they  have  been 
selected  from  many  dif- 
ferent sources  ;  and  some 
of  theni,  no  doubt,  are 
purely  traditional. 

Here  and  there,  also, 
may  be  found  contradic- 
tions, for  it  is  not  possi- 
ble to  get  precise  truths 
about  a  matter,  and  the 
incidents  relating  to  it, 
when  so  many  years  have 
gone  by,  and  when  so 
much  even  in  the  begin- 
ning was  hearsay. 

Yet  the  articles  we  have 
selected  are  in  keeping 
with  the  known  facts,  and 
might  have  happened, 
even  if  they  did  not. 

What  we  do  know  cer- 
tainly is  that  the  vast  ter- 
ritory once  called  Louisi- 
ana, bought  for  fifteen  mil- 
lion dollars,  has  become  a 
land  so  rich  that  all  the 
nations  of  the  earth  could 
not  purchase  from  our 
country  even  a  small  part 
of  it  to-day. 

In    making    selections 


Purchase  accepted  for     of   contributions    for  the    St.    Nicholas    League   there 
e  all  very  interesting,      are  several    things  to  be  considered.      The  League  is 

a  part  of  the  magazine, 
and  must  be  interesting, 
even  to  those  who  do  not 
belong  to  it  (and  there 
are  many  such),  yet  who 
like  to  read  the  stories 
and  poems  and  enjoy  the 
pictures  and  other  fea- 
tures. So,  besides  select- 
ing for  merit  according 
to  age,  we  must  select 
for  general  interest  and 
variety. 

In  the  Louisiana  stories 
there  w-ere  a  number  of 
authors  wdio  told  the  sto- 
ry of  the  purchase  quite 
as  well  as  any  whose 
work  was  selected,  but 
the  stories  chosen  con- 
tained some  little  incident 
of  especial  interest  which 
gave  them  preference. 
Selections  for  the  big 
magazines  are  made  in 
the  same  way.  Merit,  in- 
terest, variety,  and  (if 
written  matter)  length  are 
all  to  be  considered,  as 
well  as  appropriateness  to 
the  publication.    Many  an 


jRTRArr. 

AGE    15. 


!V    W.    CLINTON    BROWN, 
(GOLD    BADGE.) 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


I  04 1 


excellent  writer  or  artist  fails  time  after  time  because 
he  docs  not  consider  the  last-namcil,  anil  offers  pictures 
or  stories  or  poems  to  just  the  wrong  periodical,  per- 
haps wondering  why  they  are  refused.  Writing  and 
drawing  are  professions  (or  trades),  and  there  are 
things  to  be  learned  even  by  the  most  talented.  It  is 
the  work  of  the  League  to  teach  these  necessary  de- 
tails, and  that  is  why  the  above  is  written,  and  that  is 
why  we  have  rules. 


LEAGUE  PRIZE-WINNERS, 
No.  57. 


COMPETITION 


In  making  awards,  contriliutors"  ages  are  considered. 

Verse.  Gold  badges,  Mary  Travis  Heward  Cage 
15),  lirighton  .\ve.,  Kearnw  X.  ].,  and  Blanche 
Leeming  (age   14),  221  Cedar  Si.,  Miilii^jnii  Citv.  Iml. 

Silver  badges,  Georgi- 
ana  Myers  Sturdee  ia.;r 
10),  24S  State  St..  AUxiny, 
N.  v.,  .ind  Alice  Trimble 
(age  S),  Moylan,  Pa. 

Prose.  Gold  badges, 
Margaret  Minaker  (age 
i;K  Glad-Stone.  .Manito- 
ba, ( 'anada,  and  Helen  J. 
Simpson  (age  14),  396 
Sterling  Place,  Brooklyn, 
N.Y. 

Silver  badges,  Eliza- 
beth R.  Marvin  (age  12), 
232  \urk  St.,  New  Ha 
ven.  Conn.,  and  Margaret 
Bull  (age  10),  Naugatuck, 
I  'imn. 

Drawing.  Goldbadges, 
Hugh  Spencer  (age  161, 
-<1.  Clciii.l,  .Minn.,  and  W. 
Clinton  Brown  (age  15). 
331  S.  I'ryor  St.,  -Vtlanta. 
Ga. 

Silver  badges,  Lydia 
Caroline  Gibson  (age  12), 
Cove  Neck,  Oyster  Bay, 
L.  I.,  Isador  Levitt  (age 
14),   1121   Iligli  St.,   St. 

Louis,  Mo.,  and  Marjorie  Hendershot  (age  6),  2555 
Ouincy  .St.,  Ogden.  L't.ah. 

Photography.  Gold  badge,  Dorothy  E.  Weber  (age 
]•;).   1411  1'  St  ,  Salt  Lake  City,   L'tah. 

Silver  badges.  Alice  Wangenheim  (age  .S),  Hotel  del 
Corona,  San  Diego,  Cal,  and  Mary  F.  Underhill  (age 
12),  41  Summit  .\ve..  I'.riglitnii.  Mass. 

Wild  Animal  and  Bird  Photography.  First  prize, 
"Opossum,"  liy  Mary  Thompson  (age  12),  (Ireenville, 
Del.  Second  prize,  "Wild  Geese,"  byGrover  T.  Corn- 
ing (age  17),  58  Hamilton  .\ve.,  Lynn,  Mass.  Third 
prize,  "  Hoot-owl,"  by  J.  Struthers  Dunn  (age  13), 
46  E.  Sedgwick  St.,   Pliiladclpliia,  Pa. 

Puzzle-making.  Gold  b.adgcs,  Mary  Salmon  (age 
16),  Mt.  Olive,  N.  J.,  and  Louise  Fitz  (age  14),  Pe- 
conic,  L.  L 

Silver  badges,  Marion  Pond  (age  17),  .\tlantic  Hill, 
Nantasket,  Mass.,  and  Marian  P.  Toulmin  (age  11), 
Ilavcrford.  Pa. 

Puzzle-answers.  Gold  badges,  Eleanor  Wyman  (age 
13),  Nunica,  Mich.,  and  Benjamin  L.  Miller  (age  14). 
129  N.  Clark  St.,  Chicago,  111, 

Silver  b.adges,  Dorothy  Knight  (age  13),  Delphi, 
Ind.,  and  Florence  Alvarez  (age  14),  care  Dr.  L.  F. 
Alvarez,  Can.anea,  Sonera,  .Me.N. 


WHAT    UE    LKI-T    IIF-HLSD.  BV    DOKUTH^    E.    WELL 

AGE   15.      (COLD   BADGE.) 


A  NOVEL  K.VNSO.M. 

liV    HELEN   J.    SIMP.SON    (AGE    I4). 
(Go/d  Badgf.) 

In'  1763  France,  by  a  secret  treaty,  ceded  to  Spain 
that  territory,  then  known  as  Louisian.a,  which  lay  west 
of  the  Mississippi  River,  together  with  the  city  of  New 
Orleans. 

When  the  French  inhabitants  found  themselves  under 
Spanish  rule,  they  were  considerably  astonished,  and 
some  went  so  far  as  to  rise  up  against  the  Spanish  gov- 
ernment. 

The  leader  of  these  was  Pierre  de  Valvicr,  a  man  of 
noble  descent.  Unfortunately  (or,  possibly,  fortunately 
for  his  neighbors),  Valvier  was  captured  immediately. 

Had  V.alvier  been  a  single  man,  we  might  excuse 
Mm  for  this  foolish  attempt  to  become  rid  of  Spanish 
i;ule.  As  it  was,  he  had 
a  wife  and  two  children 
dependent  on  him  for 
means  of  sujiport.  How- 
ever, they  loved  him  none 
the  less  for  his  rash  im- 
prudence, and,  wdicii 
word  arrived  that  he  was 
captured,  great  was  the 
grief  in  the  tiny  cottage 
where  dwelt  the  sole  sur- 
vivors of  the  once  splen- 
did family  of  Valvier. 

Amette  V.alvier,  Pierre's 
eldest,  was  a  child  of  ten, 
and,  strange  as  it  may 
seem,  she  resolved  to  ob- 
tain her  father's  release. 
.She  lay  .awake  that  night 
considering  various  plans. 
Presently  a  happy  thought 
struck  her,  and  getting 
out  of  bed,  she  opened  a 
drawer  and  took  out  a 
velvet  jewel-case.  This 
she  carried  to  the  win- 
dow, where  the  moonlight 
streamed  in  brightly.  The 
child  opened  the  case  and 
displayed  several  glittering  and  valuable  jewels,  which 
were  strangely  out  of  keeping  with  the  humble  .ap- 
pointments of  the  cottage. 

.\s  has  been  stated,  the  Valviers  were  descended 
from  a  long  line  of  noble  ancestry,  and  the  jewels  were 
the  only  relics  of  former  splendor. 

There  was  an  antique  gold  bracelet,  a  pearl  cross, 
a  ruby  ring,  and  a  pearl  necklace  of  extraordinary 
beauty. 

This  last  Amette  wrajiped  neatly  in  tissue-paper.  She 
then  replaced  the  other  articles  and  crept  into  bed. 

Amette  was  up  betimes  next  morning,  and,  leaving  a 
note,  she  set  out  for  the  .Spanish  headquarters,  which  she 
reached  in  a  short  time. 

She  was  admitted  into  the  governor's  presence,  and 
a  smile  gradu.ally  broke  over  that  gentleman's  counte- 
nance as  the  little  French  girl  with  dark,  curly  hair  and 
snapping  black  eyes  asked,  in  the  most  businesslike 
manner,  if  he  would  exchange  Pierre  de  Valvier  for 
the  necklace. 

The  governor  agreed,  .and  father  and  daughter  started 
homeward  to  gladden  the  hearts  of  tlieir  loved  ones. 

The  pearl  necklace  has  been  carefully  preserved  by 
the  governor's  descendants,  and  is  now  in  the  possession 
of  Ronald  Tracy  of  Baton  Rouge. 


I04- 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[Sett. 


"WHAT   WE    LEFT    BEHIND.  BY    ALICE    WANGENHELM,    AGE 

(SILVER    BADGE.) 

THE  MAKING  OF  AN  AMERICAN  CITIZEN. 

BV    MARGARET    MINAKER    (AGE    15). 

{Gold  Badge.-) 

Monsieur  D.aulac  stepped  on  to  the  wide  piazza 
that  ran  the  length  of  the  long  white  house,  and  spoke 
quickly  to  his  wife,  a  fair,  dainty  lady  with  high  coiffure 
and  stately  mien.  "  The  priest  has  told  me,  as  I  rode 
through  the  village,  that  all  negotiations  with  Napoleon 
Bonaparte  have  been  settled,  and  these,"  motioning  to 
the  wide  fields  of  their  Louisiana  home,  *'  no  longer 
belong  to  dear  France,  but  to  America." 

Madame  clasped  her  hands  in  an  attitude  of  despair. 
They  were  pretty  white  hands  that  had  done  little  or  no 
work  save  embroidering  and  painting.  But  why  should 
Madame  Daulac  work? 
Was  she  not  a  "  grand 
dame  "  of  France,  who  had 
come  over  to  this  big,  sunny 
land  with  her  husband?  And 
had  she  not  half  a  hundred 
negroes  at  her  command? 
She  was,  in  truth,  a  little 
queen,  and  when  she 
thought  her  small  kingdom 
was  to  be  taken  from  her 
no  wonder  she  cried  in  dis- 
may: "Ah,  it  cannot  be! 
The  cruel  Americans  will 
take  from  us  our  pretty 
home.  That  I  cannot  bear! 
Louis,  oh,  take  me  back  to 
la  France!" 

"The  Americans  will 
surely  allow  us  to  remain 
at  '  Maison  Blanc'  as  be- 
fore," he  reassured  her. 
Then,  catching  sight  of  the 
eager,  upturned  face  of  his 
little  daughter  as  she  stood 
by  her  mother's  chair,  he 
said,  "And  what  will  you 
do,  la  petite?" 


'portrait.**      by   aline  J.    DREYFUS,    AGE    I3. 


The  little  maiden  thought  a  moment.  Her  small 
oval  face  surrounded  by  a  mass  of  golden  hair  and 
her  aquiline  features  showed  her  a  descendant  of  a 
lordly  line. 

"  Sire,"  she  said,  dropping  a  low  and  graceful 
curtsy,  "  I  will  endeavor  to  be  as  good  an  American 
as  my  grandsires  and  grandames  were  French." 

"  Mo)i  Dieu!'''  cried  her  father,  slapping  his  satin 
knee  in  delight  and  turning  to  his  wife,  "  the  child  has 
answered  her  question  welll"  Then,  bending  over 
his  daughter's  little  hand,  he  said  solemnly,  "A  great 
and  good  country  this  is,  and  I,  too,  will  endeavor  to 
become  here,  as  my  fathers  were  in  France,  faithful 
and  true  to  their  land  until  the  last  !" 

FAREWELL   TO    VACATION. 

BY    BLANCHE    LEEMING    (AGE   I4). 

{Gold  Badge.) 
A  CANOE  moored  in  the  marsh-land,  where  the  grass 

grows  thick  and  tall ; 
A  paddle  in  the  hollow',  where  the  sunset  shadows  fall ; 
A  skim  across  the  waters  in  the  gloaming  of  the  day ; 
The  white-throat  sparrow's  warbling  of  his  sweetest 

minstrel  lay. 
And  while  I   rest  me,  drifting  with  my  dreams  and 

with  the  tide, 
I  hear  the  crickets  chirping  from  the  gloom  on  either 

side. 
To  me  't  is  sweetest  music  of  September  and  its  lore, 
These  callings  from  the  water  and  those  answers  from 

the  shore; 
So  I  drift  and  drowse  and  dream,  and  am  joyous  while 

I  may. 
Then  sadly  bid  farewell  to  this  my  last  vacation  day! 

THE  LOUISL\NA   PURCHASE  IN  ST.   LOUIS. 

ELIZABETH    R.    MARVIN    (AGE    12). 

[Silver  Badge.') 

In  St.  Louis  something  very  exciting  was  happening. 
The  Spanish  flag  had  been  taken  down  and  the  French 
flag  had  been  put  up  in  its  place.  Oh,  the  French  flag 
— how  the  simple-hearted 
people  loved  it!  There  was 
much  gaiety  in  the  town 
that  night  — not  that  these 
people  disliked  the  Spanish 
rule,  but  what  could  you 
expect  of  them?  for  they 
were  French  themselves. 

But  one  afternoon,  unno- 
ticed by  the  people,  four 
men  came  from  across  the 
Mississippi  and  wen tstraight 
to  the  governor's  house. 
They  were  going  to  give 
St.  Louis  into  the  hands  of 
the  Americans,  and  they 
were  getting  the  papers 
ready  to  sign.  Napoleon 
had  sold  Louisiana  to  the 
Americans  because  he  need- 
ed money  to  carry  on  the 
war  with  England.  In  a 
little  while  the  men  came 
out  from  the  governor's 
house  and  went  down  to  the 
flagstaff,  where  ihey  took 
down  the  flag  which  the 
French  people  loved  so  well. 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


104: 


"iEi^B, 


•a    HEAUiNG    FOR    SEPTKMBER."       BV    MELVILLE    C.    LEVEV,    ACE    16.       (FORMER    IR1ZE-\VL\NER. ) 


Then  they  put  up  the  Stars  and  the  Stripes,  America's 
flag.  Lo  and  behold!  the  colonies  had  made  a  leap 
across  the  Mississippi,  and  had  now  twice  as  much  ter- 
ritory as  before.  The  people  were  standing  around  the 
flagstaff  in  amazed  groups,  when  suddenly  three  cheers 
came  up  from  the  crowd.  But  they  were  from  the 
.•\mericans,  not  from  the  French.  .Sadly  the  people 
hied  away  to  their  respective  luimes,  for  something 
great  had  happened  and  changed  their  lives  entirely. 
If  you  had  passed  by  on  the  street  that  night  you  would 
have  seen  them  out  on  their  piazzas,  talking  things  over. 
These  people  had  enjoyed  a  serenity  ever  since  Pierre 
Laclede's  settlement  forty  years  before.  But  now  every- 
thing was  changed,  for  there  was  activity  everywhere. 
There  were  discoveries  being  made,  aiul  the  lead-mines 
improved,  and  many  other  things  done  for  the  good  of 
the  colony.  The  men  thought  it  best  to  learn  English, 
so  gradually  the  old  tongue  died 
out.  Everything  is  changed ;  the 
old  houses  are  now  gone,  and 
there  is  nothing  left  to  tell  that 
St.  I^ouis  was  once  a  French  col- 
ony, except  now  and  then  yoii 
hear  the  French  tongue  spoken. 

t;OOD.BV: 

KV   GtOK<;l.\XA    MYERS    STIRDEE 
(age   10). 

(Siker  Ba,ig,:) 
GooD.BY,  good-by,  O  shady  trees, 

That  I  have  loved  so  well. 
Good-by,  good-by,  dear  brooklet, 

That  gurgles  through  the  dell. 
Good-by,  good-by,  dear  litlle  nest 

In  yonder  apple-tree; 
I  low  oft  I  've  climbed  with  eager 
feet. 

And  looked  and  gazed  at  thee! 
I  '11  have  to  say  good-by  to  you, 

And  to  the  hill  and  lea, 
For  I  am  gomg  far  away 

To  lands  lieyond  the  sea. 
My  heart  is  very  heavy 

To  have  to  part  with  home. 
For  I  will  travel  far  away 

And  through  the  world  will 
roam. 


'WHAT  WE    LEFT    BEHIND.  BV    MARV  F.   C.NDEK- 

HILL,    AGE    12.       (SILVER    BADGE.) 


Hut  though  I  leave  my  pleasant  home 

Willi  many  a  tear  and  sigh, 
I  '11  be  as  happy  as  I  can, 

Ami  bravely  say,  "Good-by!" 

THE    rUKClIASE    OF    I.(1UISIANA. 

liV    MARGARET   lilJI.L  (ACT.   lO). 

(^Silver  Badge.) 

Ouu  possession  of  that  great  territory  lying  west  of 
the  Mississippi,  known  to  us  as  the  Middle  West  and 
in  1803  as  Louisiana,  is  due  to  the  forethought  of  two 
men  — Livingston  and  Monroe.  It  contains  an  area 
of  1,171,931  square  miles  —  all  of  Louisiana,  Arkansas, 
Indian  and  Oklahoma  Territories,  Missouri,  Kansas, 
Iowa,  Nebraska,  Minnesota,  North  and  South  Dakota, 
Montana,  part  of  Colorado,  and  really  all  of  Wyoming, 
Idaho,  Oregon,  and  Washington 
— seventeen  States  and  Territo- 
ries in  all. 

In  1800  Spain  secretly  ceded 
Louisiana  back  to  France.  This 
was  kept  secret  as  long  as  possi- 
ble, but  when  it  did  leak  out  the 
French  settlers  were  delighted 
and  felt  sure  that  the  great  Napo- 
leon would  soon  come.  The 
Westerner.s  were  very  indignant 
at  this  act,  for  now  their  farms 
were  of  no  value  because  the  Mis- 
sissippi gatew.iy  was  lost  to  them. 
Napoleon's  ministers  and  agents 
tried  to  show  him  how  impossible 
it  would  be  to  hold  Louisiana 
against  the  United  States,  as 
there  was  likely  to  be  war  and  the 
United  States  would  surely  win. 

It  had  been  Napoleon's  idea  to 
build  upon  this  continent  a  na- 
tion which  would  beat  England 
on  the  seas  ;  and  so  far  as  I  know 
it  has  :  but  he  thought  of  building 
a  French  colonial  empire  here. 

Jefferson,  then  President,  and 
a  lover  oC  jjcace,  wrote  to  Living- 
ston, then  minister  to  France,  and 
asked  him  to  get  Napoleon  to  sell 
New  Orleans  to  the  United  States, 


I044 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[Sept. 


and  even  sent  Monroe  to  his  aid.  Napoleon  not  only 
offered  to  sell  New  Orleans,  but  all  of  Louisiana,  for 
$15,000,000;  for  he  was  a  great  statesman  and  a  still 
greater  soldier,  and  he  saw  that  no  matter  how  large 
his  army  might  be,  he  could  not  hold  land  to  which  he 
had  given  up  the  key  position. 

Laussat,  French  colonial  prefect  in  Louisiana,  says 
that  the  justice  in  Louisiana  was  "  worse  than  in 
Turkey." 

On  April  30,  1S03,  it  was  ceded  to  the  LTnited  States, 
and  on  December  20,  1803,  we  took  possession  of  it. 

This  purchase  was  sneered  at  very  much.  But  surely 
we  should  be  thankful  to  those  two  men  for  the  prosper- 
ous territory  we  own,  which  is  now  celelirating  its  one 
hundredth  anniversary  by  a 
wonderful  fair  at  St.  Louis. 

GOOD-BY! 

BY  ALICE  TRIMBLE  (AGE  8). 

(Silva-  Badg,:) 
GooD-BY,    O    happy    sum- 
mer. 
As   you  go  on  wings   of 
song. 
With  your  daisies  and  your 
buttercups 
A-bloom    the    whole   dav 
long. 

Good-by,   good-by,  O  sum- 
mer; 
And  do  you  know  the  rill 
That     came      from     far-off 
mountain 
A-tricklingdown  the  hill? 

It     came     from     wood    and 
mountain, 
And  is  on  its  way  to  the 
sea, 
And  will  never,  never  come 
again 
To  visit  you  and  me. 

'Good-by!"    the    birds    are 
saying. 
And  they  will  go  away, 
To  come  again   ne.xt   sum- 
mer 
And  make  as  long  a  stay. 

"SEPTEMBER, 

FAREWELL  TO  SUMMER. 
BY   SIBYL   KENT  STONE    (AGE    I4). 

Farewell  to  thee,  summer,  and  autumn,  now  welcome, 
With  elves  and  with  fairies,  a  jul.iilant  host. 

They  Ml  deck  thee,  old  oak-tree,  and 't  will  not  provoke 
thee 
Of  red  and  of  scarlet  to  find  thou  canst  boast. 

The  grass  is  all  silver  with  dew,  white  and  sparkling, 
A  curtain  of  hoar-frost  bedecks  each  tall  tree. 

And  autumn's  bright  flowers  now  fill  summer's  bowers 
With  pale-purple  asters  beloved  by  the  bee. 

We  miss  thee,  dear  summer,  but  autumn  is  lovely. 
With  brilliant  dominion  of  goldenrod  bright ; 

We  W'ill  not  forget  thee,  yet  do  not  regret  thee. 
For  all  autumn's  pleasures  yield  joyous  delight. 


Next  year  we  will  see  thee,   and  hail  thee  with  glad- 
ness, 

But  now  thy  successor  holds  revelry  here ; 
We  lift  up  our  voices,  for  autumn  rejoices 

Because  she  is  queen  o'er  the  wane  of  the  ye.ar. 

LOUISIANA  PURCHASE  INCIDENT. 

BY    ADELAIDE    WEEB-FRYAR    (AGE    I3). 

A  MEMOR.\BLE  incident  of  the  Louisiana  Purchase 
times  was  the  hoisting  of  the  American  flag  in  New 
Orleans  three  days  after  Christmas,  1803. 

Forty  years  previouj,,  articles  of  peace  were  con- 
cluded in  Paris,  France  giving  up  all  possessions  in 
-America,  save  a  few  small 
fisheries  and  a  couple  of  isl- 
ands, England  being  grant- 
ed all  the  country  east  of 
the  Mississippi  that  formerly 
belonged  to  Spain. 

Spain  and  England  had 
been  engaged  in  war,  the 
latter  capturing  Havana, 
which  she  exchanged  for 
Florida. 

In  1801,  during  Jeffer- 
son's administration,  Spain 
closed  the  port  of  New  Or- 
leans to  L'nited  States  com- 
merce. It  was  soon  found 
that  Louisiana  had  been  re- 
ceded to  France. 

The  President  at  once 
made  arrangements  to  pur- 
chase a  strip  of  territory 
on  the  eastern  bank  of  the 
Mississippi  River,  so  the 
intercourse  would  not  be  in- 
terfered with. 

The  emperor  did  not  wish 
to  sell  it,  but  there  was  war 
between  England  and 
France ;  a  British  fleet  was 
situated  in  the  Gulf,  endan- 
gering the  French  posses- 
sions, so  Napoleon  I  offered 
the  territory  called  lA)uis- 
iana — which  included  all 
west  of  the  Mississippi  and 
east  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, more  than  a  million 
square  miles  —  to  the  LTnited 
States  of  -America  for  fifteen 
million  dollars.  Our  min- 
ister to  France  hesitated  about  agreeing  to  such  a 
proposition,  because  the  Constitution  was  not  prepared 
to  buy  new  territory. 

However,  Louisiana  was  at  last  sold  to  the  United 
States  of  America.  The  French  in  New  Orleans  did 
not  enjoy  it  at  all,  and  hardly  realized  what  had  hap- 
pened until  the  Spanish  flag  was  hauled  down  and  the 
-American  hoisted  in  its  place  ;  there  was  great  cheering 
among  the  American  troops  that  had  come  with  the 
flag.  While  the  French  loved  freedom,  they  were  fond 
of  the  pomp  of  kings,  so  joined  in  with  "  Vive  Napo- 
leon," but  refused  to  recognize  the  flag.  They  danced 
and  sang,  made  fun  of  the  Americans,  sang  in  French 
while  they  broke  egg-shells  filled  with  ashes  over  the 
soldiers'  heads  ;  the  bonfires  burned  brightly  along  the 
rivf  r-banks  ;  the  men  in  the  river-boats  sang.  This  lasted 
nearly  all  night,  but  at  daybreak  all  was  quiet  again. 


CAROLINE   GIBSON,    .^GE 
BADGE.) 


ll)o^.\ 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


1045 


"OPOSSUM.  BY  MARV  THOMP- 
SON. ACE  13.  (FIKST  PRIZE, 
"wild- ANIMAL  PHOTOGRAPH.") 


A   DREAM. 

BY  ;ULIA   S.    CLOPTO.N' 
(.^GE  9). 

Sometimes  I  dream  when 
I  was  young 
.\nd  I  'd  .i-fishing  go; 
Sometimes     I     tlream     of 
grandpa's  stream, 
In  which  I  used  to  row. 
Son\etimes     I     dream     of 
meadows  green — 
The  cows  that  graze  therein 
Sometimes  I  dream  of  speck 
led  Pol, 
\Vho  was  our  old  lame  hen. 


In  .\pril,  in  the  year  1802,  when  he  was  preparing 
the  bateau  for  the  yearly  trip  to  New  Orleans,  he  re- 
ceived news  of  the  ceding  of  Louisiana  by  Spain  back 
to  France.  However,  this  news  did  not  change  his 
mind,  and  a  few  days  later  he  set  out  for  New  Orleans. 
On  the  way  ihey  met  several  other  bateau.v  belonging 
to  neighboring  farmers,  and  on  the  whole  the  tri[)  was  a 
pleasurable  one.  When  they  were  approaching  New- 
Orleans  they  heard  that  the  Spanish  intendant  had 
ordered  the  "  right  of  deposit"  to  be  withdrawn  from 
the  .Americans.  After  coming  this  long  way  from 
Cressy,  my  great-gr.andfallier  w.is  in  no  amiable  state  of 
mind  when  he  heard  this  iK-ws. 

The  settlers  for  miles  around  were  put  into  a  rage  by 
this  state  of  affairs,  for  their  produce  was  now  ready  for 
market,  and  what  other  market  could  be  reached  but 
New  Orleans?  As  my  great-gr.indfather  was  well 
known  in  these  p.irts  he  took  counsel  with  the  leading 
settlers  as  to  what  ought  to  be  done.  The  outcome  of 
these  consultations  was  the  sen<ling  of  a  delegation  to 
Washington,  with  the  demand  that  New  Orleans  should 
be  seized  by  .-Vmerican  troops. 

My  great-grandfather  was  to  be  the  chief  spokesman, 
but,  as  my  grandmother's  stories  to  me  show,  he  found  it 
very  hard  work.  When  they  reached  W'ashington,  and 
the  appeal  was  presented  to  Jefferson,  he  received  them 
courteously,  anil  although  of  course  he  could  not  accede 
tu  their  demands,  they  were  entertained  royally,  being 
invited  to  the  White  House 
on  several  occasions.  But 
what  always  pleases  me 
the  most  w.as  that  great- 
grandfather, with  only  one 
otlier  delegate,  was  invited 
by  the  President  to  a  pri- 
vate dinner,  in  which  Air. 
Jefferson  toasted  my  great- 
grandfather. 

.\s  every  one  knows  the 
outcome  of  this  mission, — 
how  Jefferson  obtained  the 
consent  of  Congress  to  buy 
New  Orleans  antl  a  part  of 


"WILD  GEESE.         BY 

GROVER    T.    CORNING,   AGE 

17.       tSKCOND    PRIZE, 

"WILD-BIRD  PHOIO- 

GRAPH.") 


FAREWELL. 

BY    FRA.NCES   I'AINE   (AGE  12). 

F.\RE\VEI.I.  to  bright  vacation  days. 
For  school  has  come  once  more ; 

Farewell  to  summer's  sunny  rays 
-And  nature's  fairest  lore. 

Farewell  to  bright  vacation  days. 
To  playing  hare  and  hound  ; 

Farewell  to  all  our  ri»mps  an<l  plays, 
'Till  Christmas  comes  around. 


CONNECTED   WITH   THE 
PURCHASE. 


LOUISIANA 


BY    GEKAI.Dl.VK   McKNERY    (AGE    I5). 

The  years  1802  and  1803  are  memorable  ones  in  the 
history  of  our  family.  Great-grandfather  Tillotson  was 
then  a  middle-aged  f.armer,  with  a  prosperous  farm  situ- 
ated about  a  hundred  miles  from  New  Orleans. 


■ 

^^H 

IIMH 

^^V\ 

^M 

^^^^^^■^^^^^^K.  .< 

m 

^HiHHi^ 

..    Ji 

"hoot-owl."      nV   J.    STRLTHEKS   DUNN,    AGF    13.       (THIRD 
PRIZE,  "  WILD-BIRD    PHOTGGRAl'H.") 


1046 


ST.     NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[Sept. 


'A    HEADING   FOR    SEPTEMBER."       BY    ISADOR    LEVITT,    AGE    I4. 


(SILVER    BADGE.) 


western  Florida,  and  how  Monroe,  with  R.  R.  Living- 
ston, United  States  minister  to  France,  effected  the 
purchase  not  only  of  this  territory  but  the  whole  of 
Louisiana  for  $15,000,000,  — I  have  no  need  to  go  into 
details. 

BABY  DOT'S  GOOD-BV. 

BY   N.\T.\I.IE    D.  WURTS    (AGE    16). 

By  the  little  garden  gate 

Austere  sunflowers  grow, 
And  bright  hollyhocks  look  up, 

Stiffly,  in  a  row. 
Baby,  ere  she  visits  aunt, 
Wishes  them  good-by  ; 
Tiptoes  near,  and  whispers  low, 

Gives  a  little  sigh  : 
'  Good-by,   flowers  ;    grow  and 

grow,  ! 

For  I  'm  coniin'  back,   you 
know." 

Dot  is  now  a  woman  grown. 
Fair,  and  wise,  and  true  ; 
Many  miles  away  is  she. 
Across  the  ocean  blue. 
Often  on  still  summer  days 

I  pass  the  garden  gate. 
And  the  flowers,  as  I  think, 
Still  for  baby  wait. 
"Good-by,   flowers;    grow  and 
grow. 
For  I  'm  comin'  back,  you 
know." 

THE  PURCHASE  OF 
LOUISL\NA. 

BY   RUTH   BOSWORTH  (AGE   15). 

Jefferson  had  been  President 
for  only  a  short  time  when  the 
news  came,  "Spain  has  ceded  Louisiana  to  France!" 

What  might  not  happen?  They  had  heard  of  Na- 
poleon before. 

If  he  had  possession  of  Louisiana  could  he  not  seize 
more  if  he  chose?  Besides  this,  the  boats  going  down 
the  Mississippi  to  trade  at  New  Orleans  had  been 
stopped  by  the  Spanish  who  had  not  yet  left.  What 
was  the  use  of  owning  part  of  the  house  if  another 
owned  the  front  door? 

President  Jefferson  sent  Monroe  to  assist  Livingston, 
our  minister  to  France,  in  negotiations  for  the  purchase 


of    New   Orleans   from    the 
French.      But   in   the  mean- 
time   France    and     England 
were  preparing  for  war.    Na- 
poleon   knew    the    value    of 
Louisiana,   but,   fearing  that 
England   would    seize   it,  he 
called  a  meeting  of  his  cliief 
advisers.   They  discussed  the 
question  all  night.    The  next 
morning     he    asked     Barbe 
1    jy        Marbois,   his    chief    adviser, 
_5^J|jL       for    the    latest    news     from 
CWJ      England.     He   replied    that 
^'^      they  were  making  extensive 
preparations.    "Then,"  cried 
Napoleon,  "  this  is  no  time 
for  irresolution.     I  i'lum'  the 
value  of  Louisiana,  but  I  re- 
Begin  negotiations  immediately,  and  report 


nounce  it. 
each  step." 

Livingston  was  astonished  when,  shortly  after,  Barbi 
Marbois  asked  him,  "  What  will  you  give  for  Loui- 
siana ?  "  "  But,"  he  objected,  "  I  have  authority  for  the 
purchase  of  New  Orleans  only."  Monroe  soon  arrived, 
and  as  the  French  feared  the  English  might  capture  it, 
and  also  needing  money  for  the  coming  struggle,  they 
offered  fifteen  million  dollars,  and  the 
treaty  was  then  signed.  After  he  had 
'  signed  it  Napoleon  declared,   "I  have 

now  given  England  a  rival  on  the  seas." 
Livingston  said  of  it,  "This  is  the 
greatest  work  of  my  life. "  .\fter  he  had 
signed  it  Napoleon  regretted  it,  and  the 
ministers  had  to  huriy  away  for  fear  he 
would  change  his  mind. 

When  the  people  heard  of  it,  some 
were  indignant  and  declared  it  was  un- 
constitutional, but  most  upheld  the  pur- 
chase. 

FAREWELL,   SU.MMER-TIME! 

BY    MARY    E.    PIDGEON    (AGE    I3). 

Farewell,  farewell,  dear  sum- 
mer-time! 
With  all  your  golden  days. 
Your    dandelions    and    butter- 
cups 
.■\nd  fields  of  yellow  maize. 
Farewell ! 

Farewell,     farewell,     dear 
summer-time! 
With     all    your    happy 
hours. 
Your  birds  and  bees  and 
butterflies 
And  all  your  pretty  flow- 
ers. 

Farewell! 

Farewell,  farewell,  dear  summer-time! 

How  can  we  let  you  go? 
For  bees  and  birds  and  butterflies, 

Oh,  we  shall  miss  you  so! 

Farewell ! 

Farewell,  farewell,  dear  summer-time! 

Farewell,  vacation  dear! 
We  *11  let  you  go,  content  to  know 

You  '11  come  again  ne.xt  year. 

Farewell  1 


•9°*] 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


1047 


THE    LOUISL\NA    rUKCIL\SE. 

BY   FERN    L.    PATTE.N'    (AGE    I7). 

St.  Louis  is  the  Mecca  toward  wliich  all 
eyes  .are  turned  during  these  d.ays.  But  while 
numliers  of  our  Leaguers  .are  gasping  for  air 
among  the  hot  buildings,  listen  while  I  tell  you 
of  another  little  piece  of  this  great  purchase. 

I  will  take  you  along  a  country  road  over 
which  I   often  drive. 

Starting  from  my  own  front  gate,  shaded 
by  big,  soft  maples,  we  spin  down  the  level 
road,  past  the  orchard. 

The  cherries  are  vain  in  their  bright  June 
red;  and  the  peach-trees  are  full  of  little 
green,  woolly  peaches,  growing  so  close  to 
the  branch  that  they  look  as  though  they  nnght 
have  been  glued  there  by  hand.  Now  we  are 
shut   in   by   the   osage-hedges   bordering   the  ' 

road.     How  pretty  they  are  in  their  glossy 
leaves! 

-Mong   the    roadside  are   pink-and-white  primroses. 

And  there  is  a  small 
patch  of  wild  strawber- 
ries with  a  few  ripe 
berries  still  left.  Here 
the  hedge  is  trimmed 
low,  and  a  delicious 
breath  is  borne  across 
from  the  field  of  red 
clover.  From  this 
small  hill  we  have  a 
clear  view  across  the 
fields  for  over  a  mile. 
We  could  see  farther, 
were  it  not  for  the 
hedges  and  groves.  .At 
one  side  is  a  field  of 
flax,  blue  with  its  dainty 
blossoms,  and  also  a 
field  of  wheat  just  turn- 
ing yellow.  On  the 
other  stretches  aw.ay  a 
large  field  of  corn, 
and  shimmer 


•what  we  left  behind.      bv 
william   hazlett  upson,  age  12. 


.See  the  heat-waves  throl 
over  it. 

One  can  almost  imagine  the  corn  is 
tiptoe  to  meet  them. 

We  are  coming  now  to  L^ry  Branch. 
Its  banks  are  covered  with  big  trees — 
sycamore  and  oak. 

Mow  cool  and  woodsy  the  air  smells, 
on  coming  from  the  hot  sun!  Up  there 
on  the  topmost  twig  of  the  highest  tree 
sways  a  redbird,  calling: 

"  Pretty,  pretty,  pretty.  Co-me. 
Co-me. " 

Now  we  are  out  in  the  sun  again, 
and  there  is  a  district  school-house,  a 
fine,  white  one  with  a  big  bell  in  the 
tower. 

.■\nd  all  this  is  a  tiny  bit  of  the  l.ouis- 
i;ina  I'lirchasc — the  land  that  caused  so 
much  debate  and  an.\iety  for  the  good 
men  one  hundred  years  ago. 

"Shall  we  buy  it?  " 

"  Do  we  need  it?  " 

"  Will  it  ever  be  settled?  " 

If  they  could  only  have  had  a  glimpse 
of  what  the  great  land  was  to  be,  how 
surprised  they  would  have  been! 


PORTRAIT 


'A   HEADING  FOR   SEPTEMBER."      BV   MARJORIE   HENDERSHOT, 
AGE   6.      (SILVER   BADGE.) 

THE  LAST  FAREWELL. 

nv  MAIIEL   E.   FLETCHER    (AGE    17). 
( ll'inner  of  Former  Prizes.) 
Dlc.\K  home,  good-by.     Along  your  silent  h.alls 

The  little,  laughing  children  trip  no  more ; 
A  spider  gray  has  draped  in  black  the  walls 
-And  spun  a  silver  thread  down  to  the  floor. 

Here  by  the  threshold  fairy  ferns  once  grew, 
And  here  the  poplar,  to  our  childish  eyes. 

Stood  green  and  sharp  against  the  sliining  blue, 
-And  touched  its  swaying  top  against  the  skies. 

Dear  house,  good-by.     I  know  not  what  you  think 
.•\s  here  you  stand,  so  empty,  bare,  and  tall. 

House,  can  you  feel  it  when  the  rafters  .^ink 

And  plastering  comes  crashing  from  your  wall? 

My  childhood's  home— oh,  never,  never  more 
Will  lights  flash  forth,  or  merry  voices  ring, 

Nor  hand  of  guest  be  on  the  sagging  door! 
Oh,  can  it  feel,  this  empty,  living  thing? 


THE    LOUISIAN.\»  PURCHASE. 

HV    MABEL   DEAN    (AGE    II). 

LoiisiANA  then  belonged  to  France; 
for  at  that  time  the  United  States  only 
re.ached  as  far  as  the  Mississippi  River. 
Now,  as  New  Orleans  stands  near  the 
mouth  of  the  river,  the  French  could 
say  what  vessels  should  go  out  to  sea, 
and  what  should  come  in.  We  were 
like  a  man  who  owns  a  house,  while 
some  other  man  owns  the  princip.al  doors 
to  it.  One  man  could  stand  on  the  steps, 
and  if  the  other  man  wanted  to  go  in  he 
would  have  to  pay.  Jefferson  saw  that 
with  the  French  holding  it  we  could  n't 
send  our  cotton  down  the  river  and  across 
the  ocean  to  Europe.  He  said  that  we 
must  have  that  door,  no  matter  how- 
much  it  cost.  After  Thomas  Jeflferson 
became  President  he  sent  over  to  Robert 
R.  Livingston  (one  of  the  signers  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence)  to  see  if 
he  could  buy  New  Orleans  for  the  United 
St.ates.  Napoleon  Bonaparte  then  ruled 
France.     He  said  that  Thomas  Jefferson 


1048 


ST.     NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[Sept. 


gold  that  lay  beyond  in  what 
is  now  California.  Small 
wonder  they  shot  the  beau- 
tiful thing  and  sent  the  skin 
to  Alexander  Wilson,  who 
mounted  it  and  gave  it  the 
name  of  the  Louisiana  Tan- 
airt-T. 


HEADING    FOR    SEPTEMBER. 


DE    LAPPE,    AGE    16. 


NOTICE. 

The  St.  Nicholas  League 
membership  is  free  to  all 
readers  of  the  magazine.  A 
badge  and  membership 
leaflet  will  be  sent  on  ap- 
plication, The  rules  for 
competitions  will  be  found 
on  the  last  League  page. 


could  have  it,  and  Louisiana  besides,  for  fifteen  millions 
of  dollars.  President  Jefferson  thought  that  was  cheap, 
so,  in  1803,  he  bought  it.  Now  we  have  twice  as  much 
land  as  before. 

SUMMER'S    FAREWELL. 

BY    MAUD    DUDLEY    SHACKELFORD   (AGE    I5). 

(  Wiinicr  of  Former  Prizes,') 

Not  by  the  freshness  of  the  morn. 
Not  by  the  gray  of  evening's  gloom. 

Not  by  the  flowers  early  shorn. 
Or  silver  rim  around  the  moon  ; 

Not  by  the  leaves  that  strew  our  way, 

Or  rustle  of  the  dying  trees. 
Not  by  the  scent  of  new-mown  hay 

That  comes  to  us  upon  the  breeze : 

Not  by  these  signs  alone  I  tell 

That  summer's  bud  and  bloom  have  passed, 
Though  in  my  heart  I  know  too  well 

That  warmth  and  sunshine  cannot  last. 


But  yestere'en,  upon  the  sky, 

I  saw  a  swiftly  moving  throng 
Of  birds,  that  through  our  meadows  fly. 

With  joyous  notes,  the  summer  long. 

And  as  I  watched  them,  overhead. 
Fade  in  the  twilight  chill  and  drear, 

This  message  in  their  flight  I  read  — 

The  summer  's  gone  and  winter  's  near  I 

THE  LOUISIANA  TANAGER. 

BY    ABIGAIL    E.    JENXER    (AGE  12). 

In  1803  President  Jefferson  bought  of  Napoleon  all 
the  land  west  of  the  Mississippi,  as  far  as  the  Rocky 
Mountains. 

In  1S04  he  sent  Captains  Meriwether  Lewis  and 
William  Clark  to  explore  this  unknown,  vast,  new  re- 
gion. 

I  have  not  time  to  tell  of  their  wanderings  across  the 
prairies  and  through  the  great  primeval  forests  toward 
the  sea.  My  story  is  of  how,  on  the  sixth  day  of  June, 
1806,  when  they  were  camping  in  Idaho,  they  saw  a 
gorgeously  beautiful  bird  dart  out  of  the  bushes.  It 
was  black,  yellow,  and  red. 

The  yellow  in  the  sunshine,  if  they  had  but  known, 
would  have  probably  seemed  to  them  an  omen  of  the 


FAREWELL   TO    SUMMER. 

BY    MELICENT    ENO    HUMASON    (AGE    I5). 

Farewell,  O  summer  bright  and  gay; 
Farewell  each  warm  and  sunny  day; 
Farewell,  sweet  rose  that  blushes  red, 
And  meadow  grass  with  cobwebs  spread. 

Farewell,  yon  pretty  brooklet  fleet. 
That  dances  on  with  twinkling  feet; 
Farewell,  ye  summer  clouds  up  high. 
That  sail  so  peacefully  the  sky. 

Farewell,  O  butterfly  e'er  bold  — 
How  I  shall  miss  thy  glint  of  gold! 
Farewell,  each  flower,  bird,  and  bee — 
Oh,  no  one  knows  how  I  love  thee! 

Farewell,  each  brook  and  leaflet  dear. 
For  winter,  bleak  and  cold,  is  near; 
I  '11  hold  you  all  in  memory 
The  winter  through.      Farewell  to  tliee! 


THE  LOUISIANA  PURCHASE. 

BY    PERSIS    PARKER    (aGE    I4}. 

When,  late  in  the  winter  of  1803,  the  rumor  of  the 
San  Ildefonso  treaty  (cohimonly  known  as  La  Granja) 
was  confirmed.  President  Jefferson  and  his  cabinet 
were  greatly  alarmed.  They  knew  of  Napoleon's  won- 
derful success,  of  his  high  ambitions,  and  also  that  it 
was  his  wish  to  reestablish  French  claims  in  North 
America.  It  was  decided  that  if  the  government  could 
buy  the  two  Floridas  and  New  Orleans  tlie  danger 
would  not  be  so  great.  Communications  were  at  once 
sent  to  Livingston,  our  minister  to  France,  to  nego- 
tiate for  this  territory.  Napoleon  needed  money  to 
carry  on  a  war  with  England,  and  decided  to  sell,  not 
only  the  two  Floridas  and  New  Orleans,  but  the  entire 
province  of  Louisiana,  with  the  same  boundaries  which 
had  been  ceded  to  France  by  Spain  in  1800.  All  influ- 
ential men  in  France  were  opposed  to  the  sale  of  this 
land  ;  even  Napoleon's  two  brothers,  Lucien  and  Jos»eph, 
opposed  most  vigorously  this  action.  The  morning 
of  the  2d  of  May,  the  very  day  on  which  the  papers 
closing  the  purchase  were  signed,  Lucien  and  Joseph 
went  to  Napoleon,  thinking  perhaps  they  might  influ- 
ence him.  Both  went  to  the  Tuileries,  and  reached  the 
palace  just  as  the  First  Consul  reached  his  bath;  how- 
ever, their  brother  granted  an  audience,  and  listened  to 


■9<M-1 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


1049 


thcni  from  the  scented  waters.  Lucien  rcisoncil  quietly, 
while  Joseph  spoke  rapidly  and  argued  hotly.  Honapartc 
heard  them  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes,  then  told  them 
it  was  useless  to  say  anything  more,  for  nothing  could 
dissuade  him  from  his  purpose.  Joseph  lost  his  temper 
and  told  his  brother  it  would  be  best  to  keep  his  plan 
to  himself,  for  he  (Joseph)  would  lead  the  opposition 
in  Parliament.  This  amused  Napoleon,  and  he  replied 
that  it  made  no  difference  who  opposed,  he  would  sell 
Louisiana,  and  France,  too,  if  he  pleased.  Within  a  few- 
hours  the  papers  were  signed  which  made  the  province 
of  Louisiana  the  property  of  the  United  States  of 
.■\merita  for  the  paltry  sum  of  $11,250,000,  and  the 
United  States  assumed  debts  amounting  to  $3,750,000, 
a  total  of  $15,000,000. 

A   DAV-DREA.M. 

BY   EUNICE   CIjVRK    BARSTOW  (AGE    I5). 

A  CASTLE  Stands  upon  a  hill ; 
Without  all  's  dreary,  cold,  and  still. 
Bright  sunbeams  fall  upon  the  wall 
Of  this  grim  castle's  banquet-hall, 
With  leaves  and  roses  festal  made — 
A  royal  feast  will  soon  he  laid. 
The  hall  's  now  filled  with  joyous  crowd, 
And  all,  you  'II  find,  are  justly  proud. 
On  ivory  chair  I  sit  in  state, 
Two  pages  for  my  wishes  wait. 
Grand  lords  and  ladies  round  me  stand, 
A  great  king  sits  at  my  right  hand, 
A  knight — but  what  is  this  I  hear? 
"Come,  dinner  's  ready,  daughter  dear!" 

ROBERT  LIVINGSTON  AND  THE  LOUISIANA 
PURCHASE. 

BY    MAKY  PEMBERTON  NOURSE  (AGIC   12). 

I  FIND  it  very  har<l  to  **  relate  some  incident  con- 
nected with  the  Louisiana  Purchase  "  that  is  not  al- 
ready generally  known ;  for  this  purchase  was  such  a 
great  event  in  our  history  that  there  has  been  much 
written  about  it,  and  all  its  details  have  been  told  in 
the  v.irious  ways  of  the  many  historians. 

But  there  is  one  incident  which,  I  think,  is  not  so 
generally  known  as  the  rest,  or,  at  least,  I  do  not  find 
it  mentioned  in  as  many  different  accounts  of  this  great 
event. 

The  incident  to  which  I  allude  is  that  Mr.  Livingston 
advanced  a  part  of  the  purchase-money. 

While  he  was  in  Paris  with  Mr.  Monroe,  trying  to 
purchase  the  island  of  New  Orleans  and  the  right  of 
navigation  on  the  Mississippi  River,  he  met  Robert 
Fulton,  who  was  then  working  on  his  steamboat.  Mr. 
Livingston  h.<id  formerly  been  interested  in  this  new 
mode  of  navigation,  and  after  his  meeting  with  Fulton 
he  became  more  convinced  of  its  powers.  lie  felt 
strongly  the  importance  of  his  country's  owning  the 
Mississippi  River;  and,  as  I  have  said,  so  much  so 
that  he  willingly  advanced  a  part  of  the  money  for  the 
purchase. 

Mr.  Livingston  had  no  idea  how  much  good  he  was 
doing  his  countty  in  buying  the  tract  of  land  west  of 
the  Mississippi.  His  only  idea  was  what  could  be 
done  by  steamboats  on  the  river.  This  is  plainly 
shown  by  what  Mr.  Hale  (in  his  "Memories  of  a 
Hundred  Years ")  quotes  from  a  conversation  be- 
tween Livingston  and  Jefferson.  He  tells  us  that  Liv- 
ingston told  Jefferson  that  he  had  .already  secured 
such  promises  that  we  could  "  recoup  "  ourselves  and 

Vol..  XXXL-132. 


get  back  all  our  fifteen  million  dollars  by  selling  again 
everything  west  of  the  river.  But,  thanks  to  our  far- 
sighted  statesmen,  this  was  not  done ;  and  we  still  own 
this  great  middle  country,  which  is  the  doorway  to  the 
West  and  its  riches,  and  our  Pacific  trade. 


THE    BOLL    OF    HONOR. 

No.  I.  A  list  of  those  wHbsc  contributions  would  have  been  printed 
had  space  pernutled. 

No.  2.  A  list  of  those  whose  work  entitles  them  to  honorable 
mention  and  encoumgcment. 


Constance  Whilten        Frances  Kceline 
Aurcli.T  Michener  Elsie  E.  Seward 

Frances  Morrisscy  Mabel  Whitehead 

Margaret  Drew  Louise  Rol)bins 

Alice  Pearl  Ulucher       Florence  Gardiner 
Marjonc  Wellington      Anita  Moffett 
Margaret. Alleyne  Starr  Julia  Hallcck 
Rachel  Wysc 
Dorothy  Barkley 
Grace  Noble 

DRAWINGS  I. 

Dorothy  Ochtman 
Helen  M.  Brown 
Eleanor  Hinton 
Lucy  E.  R.  Mackenzie 
Minnie  Gwyn 
Ella  E.  Prt-ston 


VERSE  I. 

Frances  Benedict 
Margaret  Stuart 

Brown 
Mildred  S.  Martin 
Doris  Linton 
Catherine  H.  Straker 

Katharine  Norton  PROSE  i. 
Elsa  Clark 

Mildred  Stanley  Fleck  Elizabeth  Toof 

Elizabeth  C.  Bcalc  Edith  Hulberg 

Eleanor  R.  Johnson  Hermann  Schusslcr 

Naomi  Hale  Cook  Eflie  Gcron 

Marguerite  Stuart  Frank  Hertcll 

Marguerite  Borden  Berkeley  Blake 

Olga  Maria  Kolff  .Manorie  DuBois 

Joseph  E.  I  aikins  Elizabeth  Palmer 

Dorothea  M.  Dexter  Lopcr 

Lucia  Beebe  Stella  Elizabeth  Rora-  Helen  A.  Fleck 
Stella  Benson  back  H.  V.  Kinney 
Ruth  .A.  Wilson  Mary  Hughes  M.Trgaret  Spencer 
Dorothy  Kerr  Floyd  Beatrice  AdeleVoorhis      Smith 
Teresa  Cohen  Mary  Louise  Smith  Harriet  Park 
Gertrude  Madge  Harry  Funk  Margery  Hradshaw 
Lydia  Bigelow  Lura  Adgate  Beckwith  Mary  Hazeltinc  Few- 
Harold  R.  Norris  Ray  Murray                        smith 
Josephine  Whitbeck  Allan   Seymour  Rich-  Eliza  Stockton 
Lawrence  Johnson  ardson  John  A.  Ross 
Esther  Hopkins  Leonora  Branch  Anna  Zucker 
Helen  Potter  Carolyn  Wood  Muriel  R.  Ivinney 
Isabel  D.  Weaver  Cornelia  Needles  Bessie  T.  Griffith 
Walker  Shiriey  A.  Rich 
V  ERSE  2.  Irma  Jessie  Dieschcr 
PROSE  2.  Ethel  Mcsseriy 
Alice  Braunlich  Stanislaus  E.  McNeill 
Abigail  R.  Bailey  Dorothy  Felt  Bertha  V.  Emmerson 
Kathcrine  Kurz  Helen  Hinm.in  Genevieve  A.  Legcr- 
.Mary  Frank  Kimball  Hubert  H.  Gibbs               wood 
WyldaAitken  R.  Olive  Hartt  Martha  E   Fleck 
Magdalene  Barry  Rachel  Bulley  Olive  Lane 
Dorothy  Walcott  Cald-  Marie  V.  Scanlan  Gladys  Pattee 

well  Dorothy  Coi>ke  D.  M.  Sliaw 

Harriet  R.  Fo.t  Helen  I.orenz  Louise  Gleason 

Helen  Read  Beatrice  Frye  Helena  R.  Flynn 

Janette  Bishop  Mary  T.  Palmer  Annette  L.  Brown 

Marguerite  K.  (ioode  Mildred    Lillias    Ar-  Mildred  Willard 

Maria  Leonor  Llano  mour  Ruth  Evelyn  Hutchins 

Jacob  Schmnckcr  Lillian  Galloway  Roger  K    Lane 

Dorothy  Kuhns  Dorothy   Cummins  Margaret  Winthrop 

George  Haig  Kathryn  E.  Hubbard         Peck 

Mary  A.  Wood  Bessie  L,  Davis  Lawrence  Straker 

Thoda  Cockroft  Morris  Gilbert  Bishop  Blanche  C^uthbcrt 

Helen  Lombaert  Clara  R.  Sb.'.nafclt  Ale.v  SeiHert 

May  B.  Flint  C.  Hazel  Martin  Susan  J.  Swectser 

Alice  R.  DcFord  Elizabeth  Love  God-  Alice  Delano 

Margaret  Norton  win  Gertrude  Atwell 

Bemice  Brown  Vincent  Connolly  Arthur  White 

Dorothy  Fcrrier  Louise  Robert  Frances  Russell 

Mary  Blossom  Bloss  Roscoe  Brinton  Muriel  Jcwson 

Helene  Mabel  Sawyer  Sarah  L.  Coffin 

Barbara  Cheney  DRAWINGS  i.  John  Sinclair 

Joan  Cotton  Margaret  G.  Rhcit 

Frances  C.  Minor  Mildred  ("urran  Smith  Margaret  Pilkington 

Lucy  Pedder  Alice  T.  Wing  Marjorie  Newcomb 

Helen  Hudson  Margaret  Corwin                Wilson 

Fxiith  Brooks  Hunt  Emily  W.  Browne  Carl  Wetzel 

Margaret  E.  Grant  Herbert  W.  l^indan  Delphina  L    Hammer 

Helen  E.  Seatight  Lena  Towsley  E   Mildred  Snyder 

Lois  M.  Cunningham  Margaret  R.  Richard-  Joan  Spenct-r  Smith 

Frances  A.  Gosling  son  Eleanor  Welsh 

Florence  G.  Hussey  Ruth  Parshall  Brown  John  Schwartz 

Josephine  E.  Swain  Edwina  Spear         ^  Margaret  McKeon 

Madeleine  Fuller  Mc-  Phoebe  U.  Hunter'  Mary  Taft  .\twater 

Dowel!  Inez  Marie  Day  Harriet  Eager 

Gladys  Nelson  Ruth  Fell  L.  Fred  Clawson 

Margery  Eldredge  Marjorie  Hubbell  Mary  Scarborough 


I050 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[Sept. 


'a    heading    for   SEPTEMBER.  BV    HELEN    WATERMAN,    AGE    13. 


Robert  Hammond 

Gibson 
Mary  Helen  Stevens 
Walter  Burton  Nourse 
Nancy  E.  Barton 
Elizabeth  Randall 
Helen  Drew 
Lorraine  H.  Cornley 
Dorothea  Thompson 
Mary  Daniel  Gordon 
Frances  Lehmann 
Anne  B.  Richardson 
Helen  Whitman 
Marguerite  McCormick 
Helen  M.  Baker 
Louis  Irving  Beach 
John  Butler 

PHOTOGRAPHS  i. 

H.  Maynard  Rees 
Pauline  Schaefer 
Olive  A.  Granger 
Bessie  C.  Hirsh 
Fulvia  Varvaro 
Frank  Damrosch 
Eleanor  C.  Hamill 
H.  Ernest  Bell 
Dorothy  Arnold 


Gladys  E.  Chamberlain 
William  S.  Doty 
Lois  Williams 
Ethel  Osgood 
Melchior  R.  Beltz- 

hoover 
Margaret  Adams 
Janet  Horatia 
Otis  Chabot 
George  Prochazka 
S.  B.  Murray,  Jr. 
Hamilton  Alport 
Fred  Scholle 

PHOTOGRAPHS  2. 

Horace  J,  Simons 
Charles  Jackson 
Zeno  N    Kent 
Benjamin  Hitz 
J.  C.  McCune 
Virginia  Witmer 
Kendall  Biishnell 
George  William  Gail 
Phebe  Hart  Smith 
Sidney  Scudder 
Clarence  Simonson 
Richard  Dana  Skinner 
Donald  Myrick 


Muriel  Ives 

Walter  Creigh  Preston 

Ruth  Garland 

PUZZLES  I. 

Donald  Baker 
Alice  Knowles 
Harry  W.  Hazard,  Jr. 
E.  Adelaide  Hahn 
Doris  Hackbusch 
Mary  E.  Dunbar 
Emerson  G.  Sutcliffe 
Martin  Janowitz 
Phillip  J.  Sexton 
E.  V.  Dodsworth 
Madge  Oakley 
Gretchen  Neuburger 

PUZZLES  2. 

Florence  Mackey 
Helen  Carter 
Edward  S.  Greenbaum 
Stanley  C  Low 
Richard  Watson 
Anna  Zollars 
Gertrude  V.  Trump- 

lette 
Margaret  P.  Dorsey 


NEW  LEAGUE  CHAPTERS. 

No.  752.  Lillie  Schmidt,  President;  Hanna  M  Douglass,  Secre- 
tary ;  twelve  members.     Address.  Summit  Ave.,  Elmhurst,  L.  I. 

J^o.  753.  Edgar  Kohlhepp,  President;  Armin  St.  George,  Sec- 
retary; seven  members.  Address,  214  Bowers  St.,  Jersey  City 
Heights.  N.  J. 

No.  754.  "  The  Cozy  Comer  Club."  Elinor  Gooding/President; 
Isabel  Foster,  Secretary;  three  members.  Address,  10  Midde  St., 
Portsmouth,  N.  H. 

No.  754a.  "  Four-leaf  Clovers."  Sarah  Fox,  President;  Zonee 
Adams,  Secretary  ;  four  members.  Address,  4225  North  Stevens 
St.,  Tacoma,  Wash. 

No.  755.  "Twister."  Ruth  Wright,  President;  Helen  Barton, 
Secretary.     Address,  16  Lexington  Ave.,  Cambridge,  Mass. 

No.  756.  Angela  White,  President;  Rose  Bergmann,  Secretary; 
eight  members.     Address,   Myrtle  Ave.,  near  Locust  St.,  Corona, 

No.  757.  Frances  L.  Ross,  President;  Annie  Highley,  Secre- 
tary; three  members.     Address,  Conshohocken.  Pa. 

No.  758.  "  Yellowstone,"  John  Schwartz,  President;  Hazel  Hill, 
Secretary;   thirty  members.     Address,  Billings,  Mont. 

No.  759.  "  Nimble  Fingers."  Beth  Spring,  President;  Marga- 
ret Bull,  Secretary;  ten  members.  Address  253  Church  St.,  Nauga- 
tuck,  Conn. 

No.  760.  "Companions."  Five  members.  Address,  145  W.  97th 
St.,  New  York  City- 
No.  761.  John  Mullen,  President;  John  Horgan,  Secretary;  five 
members.     Address,  48th  St.,  East  Cambridge,  Mass. 

No.  762.  Sophie  Ruppel,  President;  Addie  Morgan.  Secretary; 
ten  members.      Address,  Hoffman  Blvd.,  Elmhurst,  N.  Y. 

No.  763.  "Mixed  Pickles."  Bessie  Coat.  President:  Hazel 
Croft,  Secretary;   eight  members.     Address,  IMason  City,  111. 


LEAGUE   LETTERS. 

Philadelphia,  Pa. 
Dear  St.  Nicholas:  I 
have  returned  home  from  my 
trip  abruad.  I  thought  I 
would  write  and  tell  you 
about  It.  VVe  had  quite  a 
rough  voyage  home. 

We  spent  about  six  weeks 
in  Hastings. 

While  1  was  in  Hastings  I 
visited  the  home  of  two  other 
League  members,  Margery 
and  Freda  Harrison.  I  spent 
a  very  pleasant  afternoon  at 
their  home.  They  have  a 
beautiful  home. 

I  liked  Hastings  very  much, 
it  is  such  a  quamt  place. 
I  like  London  very  much. 
While  I  was  there  1  visited 
WestminsttrAbbey,  St.  Paul's 
Cathedra!,  Mnie.  Tussaiid's, 
the  Tower  of  London,  and 
various  other  places.  We  also 
visited  Brighton,  and  various 
other  places. 

Of  all  the  places  we  visited,  I  liked  Hastings  the  best. 
The  scenery  of  Ireland  is  also  very  pretty. 

In  fact,  I  liked  England  very  much.  I  think  London  is  a  very 
nice  city. 

It  has  many  interesting  places.  They  have  no  trolley-cars  in  Lon- 
don ;  they  have  busses  and  tramways.  Neither  are  there  such  tall 
buildings  as  ue  have. 

I  hope  this  letter  will  be  published,  as  a  friend  wishes  a  copy  of 
St.  Nicholas  with  my  letter  in.     Will  you  kindly  publish  it  soon  ? 

Bessie  Marshall. 

Washington,  D.  C. 
Dear  St.  Nicholas:  You  came  to  me  as  a  present  when  I  was 
sick.  I  take  great  interest  in  the  League  department  and  read  it  the 
first  thing.  I  will  tell  you  about  the  party  given  at  the  White  House 
to  the  army  and  navy  children.  Our  carriage  was  driven  up  to  the 
east  wing,  and  there  we  found  a  man  whose  duty  it  was  to  open  the 
doors  of  the  carriages  ;  then  we  went  into  a  large  room  where  there 
were  several  nurses  whose  business  it  was  to  take  charge  of  the  chil- 
dren's wraps  ;  then  my  sister  and  myself  went  up  a  long  flight  of  stairs 
to  another  room,  where  we  were  introduced  to  the  President  and 
Mrs.  Roosevelt.  Next  we  went  into  a  room  where  a  souvenir  was 
given  to  each  child,  after  which  we  went  into  the  State  Parlor,  where 
a  concert  was  given  by  the  Rodney  boys  of  Chicago.  Then  we 
went  to  supper  where  was  a  large  Christmas  tree  lighted  up  by  red, 
white,  and  blue  lights,  and  ate  a  delicious  supper.  Next  there  was 
dancing,  but  I  did  n't  stay  to  it,  so  I  went  and  got  my  wraps  and 
we  were  driven  home.     Good-by  ! 

From  jour  devoted  reader, 

Summerfield  McCarteni-y  (age  11). 

Webstkk,  Colorado. 

Dear  St.  Nicholas  :  I  like  to  read  the  letters  in  your  magazine 
and  thought  I  would  write  you  one. 

I  am  a  little  boy  eight  years  old,  My  little  brother  Cyrus  and  I 
live  with  papa  and  mama  almost  at  the  top  of  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
nine  miles  from  Webster  and  12,000  feet  above  the  sea. 

There  has  been  about  three  feet  of  snowfall  in  the  last  two  days. 
Cyrus  and  I  had  lots  of  fun  snow-shoeing  this  mnming.  We  heard 
mountain  quail  this  morning  and  saw  one  sitting  on  a  rock  near 
the  house. 

They  are  white  as  snow  in  the  winter  and  in  the  summer  they 
are  speckled  and  almost  the  color  of  the  ground. 

I  will  send  a  picture  of  a  beaver  house.  The  beavers  have  built 
this  house  and  six  or  seven  dams  about  half  way  between  here  and 
Webster. 

One  of  your  League  members,  Everett  Street. 

Dear  St.  Nicholas  :  I  thought  I  would  write  and  tell  you  about 
my  trip  abroad.  I  enjoyed  myself  very  much.  \Ve  spent  about  six 
weeks  at  Hastings,  England.  While  I  was  at  Hastings  I  spent  a 
very  pleasant  afternoon  at  the  home  of  two  other  League  members, 
Margery  and  Freda  Harrison. 

I  also  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  their  father  and  mother.  They 
have  a  beautiful  home.  I  liked  England  very  much  and  should  like 
to  vi-it  it  again. 

I  think  that  London  is  a  nice  city.  I  should  like  to  have  stayed 
there  longer. 

I  think  Hastings  a  very  beautiful  place.  It  is  near  Battle  Abbey, 
where  the  great  battle  of  Hastings  was  fought.  There  are  also  the 
ruins  of  an  old  castle.  I  did  not  care  much  for  Brighton.  East- 
bourne is  a  pretty  place. 

We  had  a  pleasant  voyage  over.  It  was  quite  rough  on  the  home- 
ward voyage.     From  Elisabeth  S.  Marshall. 


«9<H-) 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


I  OS  I 


Copper,  Califhrnia. 
Drar  St.  Nicholas:  When  I  was  coming  to  school  I  killed  a 
rattlesnake  and  he  had  fottncen  rattles. 

Our  home  is  near  the  Sierra  Nevada  Mount-iiiis  and  Table  Moun- 
tain and  the  Stanislaus  River.  There  is  an  .nsbcstos  mine  near  our 
home.  They  ni:ike  bricks  and  clothes  out  of  it  and  it  will  not  burn. 
The  man  that  owns  it  says  he  will  put  up  a  mill  to  make  clothes 
and  bricks  for  San  Francisco. 

Your  friend,  WiLLiE  BowiE. 

Other  appreciative  and  intcrcstme  letters  have  been  received  from 
Robert  S.  Plati,  Christine  SchofT,  W.  H.  Huntley,  Klorence  C. 
O'Rourkc,  Clarence  George  Questo,  Nellie  Foster  Comcg>-s,  May 
Smith,  Charles  Irish  Pre.-iton,  Muriel  C.  livans,  Hazel  Shnibb,  F. 
G  Sutcliffe,  Jean  A.  McGill,  Dorothy  Slurgis,  Lorraine  Ransom, 
Hcrvey  Hubcl.  Gladys  Carroll.  Dorothy  M.  McBumey.  Ida  W. 
Kendall,  Florence  Elwell,  Luzcttc  Ryerson,  and  Clara  R.  Shanafelt. 

Knox,  Clarion  Co,,  Pa. 

Pear  St.  Nicholas:  1  received  the  May  St.  Nicholas  to-day. 
I  like  the  Sr.  Nicholas  so  much  that  I  can  scarcely  wait  until  it 
comes.     I  always  read  cverythini;  in  it. 

I  was  pleased  to  see  my  name  was  on  the  roll  of  honor.  I  did 
not  expect  lo  find  it  there.  I  know  I  make  a  great  many  mistakes, 
but  I  am  determined  lo  make  my  writings  worthy  of  being  printed, 
no  difference  how  much  work  it  may  take. 

I  am  not  personally  acquainted  with  any  of  the  League  members 
(except  my  brother  kenil).  but  I  like  to  read  the  stories  and  sec  ihe 
nice  work  some  of  the  children  arc  capable  of  doing.  It  always 
makes  me  glad  to  see  children  gain  prizes  who  have  written  stones 
before  and  not  received  anything  for  them.  Some  of  the  writings  1 
liked  best  were  written  by  Philip  Stark,  Allcine  t.angford.  Ruth 
Peircc  Getchell,  Fred  S.  Hopkins,  and  .Mabel  Fletcher. 
Your  faithful  reader, 

TwiLA  Agnes  McDowell. 

MONTCI-AIR,  N.  J. 

Dear  St.  Nicholas:  I  belong  to  Chapier  750  here. 

We  have  agreed  that  every  member  must  contribute  every  month 
to  your  League.     If  they  don't  they  have  to 
pay  a  fine  of  two  cents.     The  money  will 
probably  be  kept  for  the  entertainments. 

Besides  the  regular  League  badges  we 
have  special  ones  marked  T.  T.  T.  Club. 
Wc  change  officers  every  three  months. 

Dear  St.  Nich<ilas:  You  do  not  know 
how  much  pleasure  your  League  has  given 


me,  and  I  hope  sometimes  I  can  win  the  badges.    I  must  close  now. 
Your  loving  little  reader,  Eleanor  L.  Halpin  (age  11). 

Sawkill,  Pike  Co.,  Pa. 
Dear  St.  Nicholas:  Words  cannot  express  my  delight  at  re- 
ceiving the  longed-for  cash  prize.  The  long  months  of  hard  work 
and  patient  waiting  have  at  last  been  rewarded  by  the  best  of  suc- 
cess—  my  beautiful  prizes,  and  what  I  needed  far  more  —  hearty 
encouragement.  In  this,  the  proudest  moment  I  have  spent  at 
League  work,  let  me  thank  you  for  the  help  and  sincere  encourage- 
ment you  have  given  mc-  No  other  magazine  can  ever  give  me  the 
pleasure  in  its  pages  that  I  will  alwaj^s  enjoy  in  the  best  friend  of 
my  chddhood— St.  Nicholas.  Again  thanking  you  for  the  beau- 
tiful prizes,  I  am  Gratefully  yours,  Philip  Stark. 

Portsmouth,  N.  H. 

Dear  St  Nicholas:  On  the  2nd  of  May  our  Chapter,  No.  610, 
look  a  M.-iy  Basket  to  the  Children's  Home. 

The  basket  was  a  large  one,  covered  with  white  crape  paper  with 
a  rose  border,  and  inside  were  boxes  of  crackers,  candy,  fruit,  a 
bunch  of  Mayflowers,  and  a  bunch  of  violets. 

After  taking  it  to  the  home,  we  went  to  one  of  the  membcis' 
houses,  had  supper  there,  and  played  games  till  eight  o'clock. 

Our  chapter  h.ts  a  great  many  new  members  and  has  had  its 
name  changed  to  "  Thisilcdown." 

We  have  meetings  every  Monday  night  and  elect  officers  once  in 
three  months.  Your  very  interested  reader, 

Dorothy  Thayer. 

Stonington,  Conn. 
Dear  St.  Nicholas:  I  don't  think  I  cnn  ever  thank  you  for  the 
prize  and  the  pleasure  it  gave  me.  .Xfter  I  had  sent  the  poem  the 
days  seemed  each  forty-four  hours  long,  until  at  l;ist  came  .April,  and 
then  it  was  neariy  May,  and  .siill  no  St.  Nicholas.  I  haunted  the 
post-ofhce,  for  down,  way  down,  in  a  corner  of  my  heart  was  a  little, 
little  hope  —  hardly  a  hope,  merely  a  wish  —  that  it  might  be  printed 
even  if  I  ^ot  nn  pnzc.  When  I  really  saw  it  printed  with  the  magic 
words  "(»old  Badge'*  above  it,  I  was  so  astonished  and  delighted 
that  I  knew  then  that  I  had  never  really  hoped  for  even  my  name  on 
the  roll  of  honor.  I  cannot  tell  you  all  that 
it  really  means  to  mc,  for  I  have  tried  so  hard 
for  even  a  little  success,  and  it  does  not  seem 
possible  that  I  have  won  the  gold  badge. 

Thanking  you  again  and  again  for  your 
kindness,  1  am,  as  always, 

Yours  sincerely, 

Anne  Atwood. 


PRIZE  COMPETITION  NO.  60. 

The  St.  Nicholas  League  awards 
gold  and  silver  badges  each  month 
for  the  be.<;t  poems,  stories,  draw- 
ings, photographs,  puzzles,  and  puzzle-answers.  Also 
cash  prizes  of  five  dollars  each  to  gold-badge  winners 
who  shall  again  win  first  place.  This  does  not  include 
**\ViM  Animal  and  Bird  Photograpli  "  pri/c-winners. 

Competition  No.  60  will  close  September  20  (for  for- 
eign menibors  September  25).  The  awards  will  be 
announced  and  pri/^e  contributions  published  in  St. 
NlCHOL.\s   for   December. 

Verse.  To  contain  not  more  than  twenty-four  lines. 
'I'ille :   to  contain  the  word  "Reward." 

Prose.  Article  or  story  of  not  more  than  four  hun- 
dred words  to  relate  some  episode  in  Russian  history. 

Photograph.  Any  size,  interior  or  exterior,  mounted 
'T  unmounted;  no  blue  prints  or  negatives.  Subject, 
"Home  .Again." 

Drawing.  India  ink,  very  black  writing-ink,  or  wash 
(not  color),  interior  or  exterior.  Two  subjects,  "  My 
riaymate  "  and  a  Heading  or  Tailpiece  for  December. 

Puzzle.  Any  sort,  but  must  be  accompanied  by  the 
answer  in  full,  and  must  be  indorsed. 

Puzzle-answers.  Best,  neatest,  and  most  complete 
set  of  answers  to  puzzles  in  this  issue  of  St.  Nicholas. 


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  in  its 
natural  home :  First  Prizt\  five  dollars  and  League  gold 
badge.  Second  Prize^  three  dollars  and  League  gold 
badge.      Third  Prize^  League  gold  badge. 

RULES. 

Any  reader  of  St.  Nichoi,as,  whether  a  subscriber 
01  not,  is  entitled  to  League  membership,  and  a  League 
badge  and  leaflet,  which  will  be  sent  on  .application. 

Every  contribution,  of  whatever  kind,  ftntst  bear 
the  name,  age,  and  address  of  the  sender,  and  be  in- 
dorsed as  "original  "  by  parent,  teacher,  or  guardian, 
who  must  be  convinced  beyo>id  doubt  that  the  contribution 
is  not  copied^  but  wholly  the  work  and  idea  of  the  sender. 
If  prose,  the  number  of  words  should  also  be  added. 
These  things  must  not  be  on  a  separate  sheet,  but  on 
the  contribution  itself^  if  a  manuscript,  on  the  upper 
margin  ;  if  a  picture,  on  the  tnargin  or  back.  Write  or 
draw  on  one  side  0/  the  paper  only.  A  contributor  may 
send  but  one  contribution  a  month  —  not  one  of  each 
kind,  but  one  only.  Address  : 
The  St.  Nicholas  League,  Union  Square,  New  York. 


BOOKS    AND    READING. 


AFTER  VACATION,  Many  of  you  liave  been 
NATURE  BOOKS,  abroad  in  the  world  during 
the  vacation  months,  and  have  possibly  come 
back  with  plenty  of  unsolved  questions  in  mind. 
You  have  been  among  the  trees,  the  flowers,  the 
birds;  you  have  been  on  the  shore  or  in  the 
mountains.  So  now  is  the  time  to  read  with 
keenest  interest  those  books  that  deal  with  the 
life  outdoors.  A  list  of  some  of  the  best  of 
these  was  given  in  this  department  not  long  ago, 
and  from  that  list  you  may  select  such  as  will 
answer  your  questions  regarding  your  summer 
experiences.  How  many  of  you  have  ever 
dipped  into  White's  "  Selborne "  or  AValton's 
"  Compleat  Angler,"  to  find  out  why  these  have 
ever  been  held  dear  by  naturalists  ?  Or  how 
many  have  read  the  lives  of  Audubon,  or  Agas- 
siz,  or  Wilson,  or  Darwin  ?  These  men  were 
readers  of  the  book  of  nature,  and  without  their 
labors  we  might  have  fewer  men  telling  about 
that  glorious  realm,  "  all  outdoors,"  that  book 
from  which  so  many  other  books  are  written. 
TRACING  AN  A  YOUNG  Correspondent 

OLD  QUOTATION,  gends  us  the  fruits  of  his 
research  in  seeking  for  the  origin  of  the  proverb, 
"  All  that  glitters  is  not  gold."  Apparently  he 
has  convinced  himself  that  looking  for  the  first 
use  of  a  popular  proverb  is  a  difficult  matter.  It 
is  like  tracing  that  road  of  which  it  was  said  that 
"  after  running  into  a  wood,  it  changed  to  a  foot- 
path, then  to  a  squirrel-track,  and  ran  up  a  tree  I " 
—  where,  no  doubt,  it  took  a  flying  leap  into 
some  other  tree,  as  the  squirrels'  highways  will 
do.  This  young  scholar  found  the  proverb  as 
early  as  1300,  when  it  was  written  "  by  Corde- 
lier," "  All  is  not  gold  that  glisteneth  in  bed." 
But  —  who  was  Cordelier  ?  We  should  be 
ashamed  to  inquire,  except  that  he  does  not  ap- 
pear in  any  ordinary  books  of  reference,  and 
our  young  correspondent  also  failed  to  find  him. 
Chaucer  has  the  proverb  in  slightly  changed 
form,  and  then  Cervantes  has  it  in  the  same  form 
Shakspere  uses  in  the  "  Merchant  of  Venice," 
changing  "  glitters  "  to  "  glisters."  There  are 
other  u.ses  of  the  proverb  by  Spenser,  Quarles, 


and  Gray,  besides  a  number  more  mentioned  in 
Bartlett's  "  Familiar  Quotations." 

And  this  last  authority,  by  the  by,  throws  light 
on  Cordelier,  giving  the  name  "  freire  Denise 
Cordelier,"  which  shows  that  the  Cordelier  is 
not  a  personal  name,  but  means  that  Denise  was 
a  member  of  the  order  of  Cordeliers,  established 
by  Francis  of  Assisi,  in  1223,  a  friar.  Bartlett  is 
an  excellent  authority  on  such  matters,  and  it  is 
often  very  wise  to  consult  him  first,  since  the 
book  has  been  so  often  and  so  carefully  revised 
that  it  is  both  very  full  and  very  complete.  And 
if  our  correspondent  wishes  to  know  more  about 
"  Denise,  Cordelier,"  he  miglit  go  to  some  large 
library  in  Boston  (he  writes  from  Crookline)  and 
see  whether  he  can  consult  Wadding's  history 
of  the  Franciscans  —  a  book  mentioned  by  the 
Britannica  as  very  exhaustive.  We  must  beg 
pardon  for  this  item,  but  this  department  wishes 
to  commend  the  use  of  reference-books  by  young 
people,  for  tlie  wisest  educators  admit  that  the 
modern  scholar  cannot  expect  to  carry  in  his 
head  full  information  on  every  out-of-the-way 
subject.  The  books  of  reference  are  so  much 
superior  to  even  the  best  of  our  memories  ! 

A  SUGGESTION  A  YOUNG  girl  in  Maine 

FROM  A  FRIEND,  ggnds  US  a  pleasant  letter 
telling  how  some  young  friends  studying  to  be- 
come public-school  teachers  decided  to  read 
books  from  lists  recommended  in  this  depart- 
ment. One  brought  "  Water  Babies,"  the  book 
by  Charles  Kingsley  concerning  which  there 
has  been  some  discussion  in  these  pages,  and 
declared  it  to  be  "  too  foolish  even  for  nonsense." 
Nevertheless  "  Water  Babies  "  was  read  aloud 
by  the  little  group,  and  at  the  conclusion  the 
same  critical  young  lady  announced  an  entire 
change  in  her  view.  She  said  •'  it  had  been  so 
delightful  that  every  subject  it  had  touched  on 
or  even  hinted  at  had  gained  new  interest  for 
her."    Here  was  a  change  indeed ! 

Our  correspondent  then  says :  "  Could  not 
'  Books  and  Reading '  suggest  reading  together 
as  a  help  to  enjoying  things  other  people  like?  " 

To  which  we  humbly  reply  that  it  so  suggests. 


BOOKS    AND    READING. 


•053 


Reading  together  often  proves  the  old  adage 
that  "  two  heads  (or  more)  are  better  than  one." 
One  will  see  one  merit,  another  will  explain 
away  an  apparent  fault;  and  where  two  or  three 
join  in  appreciation  the  effect  is  greatly  increased. 
We  advise  little  clubs  or  groups  for  reading  good 
books  together;  but  w-e  also  caution  you  not  to 
be  too  severe  in  your  rules.  The  love  of  good 
reading  should  cultivate  the  broad  sympathy 
from  which  comes  kindly  tact.  We  must  not 
leave  this  courteous  correspondent's  letter  with- 
out borrowing  the  little  bit  of  wisdom  with  which 
she  concludes :  "  While  we  cannot  all  like  the 
same  tilings,  it  is  well  to  cultivate  a  liking  for  as 
many  good  things  as  possible."  The  writer  is 
hereby  awarded  a  vote  of  thanks  for  her  note. 
HOW  OLD  IS  We  often  hear   the   e.\- 

MRS.  GRUNDY?  pression,  "  What  will  Mrs. 
Grundy  say  ?  "  but  few  know  who  the  critical 
lady  is.  If  there  ever  was  such  a  person,  she 
must  have  been  long  dead,  for  she  dates  from 
an  old  play  written  in  the  eighteenth  century. 
The  title  of  the  drama  is  "  Speed  the  Plough," 
and  it  was  written  by  Thomas  Morton,  an  Eng- 
lish dramatist.  Mrs.  Grundy,  however,  does 
not  appear  even  there,  being  merely  referred  to 
by  an  old  farmer  annoyed  by  his  wife's  always 
wondering  what  this  neighbor  will  have  to  say. 
.Vs  the  play  was  produced  over  a  century  ago, 
we  may  all  comfort  ourselves  by  remembering 
that  at  least  Mrs.  Grundy's  day  is  over. 
WRITING  YOUR  SoME  young  readers  may 
COMPOSITIONS,  be  glad  of  a  practical  hint 
about  "  reading  up  "  subjects  when  they  have  to 
prepare  compositions.  The  hint  is  this  :  when 
you  lake  notes,  write  them  on  separate  slips  of 
paper  or  such  cards  as  are  used  in  card-index- 
ing. This  plan  has  two  advantages ;  it  enables 
you  to  group  your  information  together  by  put- 
ting similar  notes  on  the  same  card ;  and  then, 
when  you  come  to  the  writing,  you  may  change 
about  your  notes  until  you  have  placed  them  in 
the  right  order  for  your  composition.  This  plan 
was  recommended  by  Edward  Eggleston  after 
he  had  learned  that  it  was  easy  to  be  "  lost  in 
one's  notes."  There  is  no  need  to  buy  the  cards, 
as  a  small  pad  will  serve  every  purpose  by  tear- 
ing off  the  leaves  as  you  fill  them  or  finish  one 
part  of  your  subject.  Let  the  leaves  be  small 
or  you  will  put  too  much  on  each. 


PREFACES  AND         I  r  is  to  be  hoped  that  you 
NOTES.  (1q  not  skip  everything  out- 

side the  mere  te.xt  of  a  book.  We  admit  that 
to  a  lover  of  Scott's  stories  it  is  discouraging  to 
find  one's  self  shut  off  from  Chapter  I  by  a  thick 
hedge  of  Introductions,  Prefaces,  and  so  on,  as 
the  Prince  was  kept  from  the  Slee|)ing  Beauty 
in  the  fairy-tale.  But  you  arc  more  fortunate 
than  he.  He  had  no  other  way  to  enter  the 
palace  than  by  forcing  his  passage  through  the 
hedge,  while  you  may  leave  the  hedge  until  you 
have  entered  the  palace,  married  the  princess, 
and  been  established  in  your  kingdom.  In 
other  words,  you  may  read  the  story  first,  and 
then  may  turn  back  or  forward  to  learn  what 
Sir  Walter  would  like  to  say  in  addition.  In 
"  Kenilworth,"  for  example,  you  will  find  notes 
telling  how  Lord  Leicester  furnished  the  great 
castle  where  Elizabeth  was  so  royally  enter- 
tained with  feasts,  fairies,  fireworks,  and  other 
gaieties.  Po.stpone  all  the.se  if  you  like,  but  do 
not  skip  them,  or  you  will  miss  some  incidents 
quite  as  interesting  as  any  in  the  story  itself. 
The  notes  to  Scott's  poems,  too,  are  full  of  de- 
lightful bits.  /\nd  the  same  truth  applies  to  the 
works  of  many  another  good  author  ;  so  do  not 
omit  thee.xplanatory  parts  without  at  least  a  trial. 
AN  UNNECESSARY  The  two  exprcssions "by 
DISTINCTION,  and  by  "and  "by  the  bye  " 
are  really  derived  from  the  same  original  word, 
and  the  words  "  by  "  and  "  bye  "  have  the  same 
general  sense.  But  the  spelling  "  bye  "  has  long 
been  used  in  the  second  of  these  phrases,  with- 
out any  real  reason  for  the  change.  We  should 
not  speak  of  a  bye-law  or  a  bye-path,  and  yet 
many  are  careful  to  write  "  by  the  bye  "  and  "  by 
and  by."  In  "  good-bye  "  there  might  be  some 
reason  for  keeping  the  final  <r,  since  it  stands  for 
the  word  "  ye  "  in  the  shortened  form  of  "  God 
be  with  ye";  but  where  so  much  has  been 
dropped,  the  e  is  hardly  w^orth  keeping,  espe- 
cially as  the  old  meaning  is  seldom  recalled. 

WHAT  IS  THE  DATE       Of  COUTSC  yOU  WOuld  Say 

OF  THIS  YEAR?  1504;  but  if  that  is  meant 
to  denote  the  number  of  years  since  the  Chris- 
tian era,  it  is  probably  wrong.  Look  in  some 
good  authority  and  see  if  this  year  should  not 
rightly  be  at  least  1908.  It  is  \<'orth  your  inves- 
tigation if  it  happens  to  be  a  subject  you  have 
not  yet  carefully  considered. 


THE    LETTER-BOX. 


I 

We  ride 


Warren,  Pa. 

Dear  St.  Nicholas  :  I  have  taken  you  for  a  num^ 
ber  of  years,  but  have  never  before  written  to  you, 
have  a  little  black  pony  whose  name  is  Tom      '*''■'' 
and  drive  him  a  great  deal.  ^^ 

I  was  much  interested  in  "  Denise  and  Ned  Toodles, 
and  am  glad  to  renew  their  acquaintance.  Ned  Toodles 
would  resemble  our  Tom  in  looks  and  actions  to  some 
extent.  In  the  summer  we  stay  on  our  farm,  which  is 
on  the  banks  of  the  Allegheny  River.  Wishing  you  suc- 
cess, I  must  close.      Ever  yours, 

Mary  McNair  Talbrott. 


Sometime  I  will  write  you  some  more  of  my  experi- 
ences in  the  interior  of  Turkey,  where  my  papa  is 
United  States  consul  and  where  I  lived  for  two  years. 
I  enjoy  St.  Nicholas  so  much,  and  watch  eagerly 
for  its  coming  every  month.  Your  faithful  reader, 
Robert  Ames  Norton. 


Constantinople,  Turkey.  ^ 
Dear  St.  Nicholas:  I  was  very  much  interested  in 
reading  the  letter  from  the  little  girl  about  the  old 
monastery  near  the  Euphr.ites  River.  She  was  nine 
years  old  and  I  am  eight,  but  I  have  crossed  the  Eu- 
phrates River  twice  and  I  thought  you  might  like  to 
hear  my  story  about  the  great  river. 

The  last  time  I  crossed  it  we  spent  the  night  at  Kenur 
Khan,  where  the  river  makes  a  bend  and  enters  the 
great  rocky  cafion  before  going  over  the  great  rapids. 
It  is  a  lonely  place,  no  houses  or  life  of  any  sort  in 
sight,  only  the  rushing  river  and  the  dark  gorge  beyond. 
As  we  came  in  the  early  morning  along  the  banks  of  the 
river  to  Isoglon,  the  place  of  the  ferry,  we  passed  a  herd 
of  one  thousand  buffaloes  being  driven  up  from  Mosul  to 
the  north  to  be  sold.  The  Arabs  who  were  driving  them, 
in  their  very  picturesque  costumes,  on  foot  and  on  horse- 
back, were  as  interesting  as  the  buffaloes.  One  of  the 
buffaloes  was  lame,  and  being  near  the  steep  bank  of  the 
river,  the  crowding  herd  pushed  it  in  and  it  sank  out  of 
sight.  It  was  so  lame  and  seemed  so  weary  that  I  think 
it  was  glad  to  find  rest  in  the  river. 

These  are  not  the  same  animals  that  we  call  buffaloes 
in  America,  but  are  like  those  we  see  in  the  pictures  of 
life  in  India,  and  are  more  like  great  black  oxen,  only 
with  longer  heads  and  necks.  They  are  used  as  beasts 
of  burden  everywhere  in  Turkey. 

At  the  ferry  there  is  a  little  Kurdish  village  of 
eighteen  or  twenty  houses  without  a  single  pane  of 
glass  in  the  windows.  In  the  winter  they  paste  up 
sheets  of  oiled  paper  to  keep  out  the  cold  and  to  give 
light.  The  ferry-boat  is  just  like  a  great  big  dust-pan 
wtth  high  sides.  It  is  made  of  rough  planks  rudely 
spiked  together  ;  the  rudder  is  fastened  to  the  high  £nd 
of  the  dust-pan,  with  a  pole  for  a  handle  longer  than  the 


Andover,  Mass. 

Dear  St.  Nicholas  :  A  lady  gave  you  to  me  for  a 
Christmas  present  and  I  think  it  is  a  very  nice  one,  for 
I  enjoy  reading  them  very  much,  and  it  does  not  take 
me  long  to  read  one  through.  I  am  very  much  inter- 
ested in  the  "  Comedy  in  Wax." 

I  have  two  pet  kittens ;  one  is  yellow,  black,  and 
white,  and  the  other  is  all  black.  They  are  very  play- 
ful ;  the  oldest  one  will  play  hide-and-seek  if  I  hide  m 
certain  places. 

I  am  in  the  eighth  grade  at  school,  and  I  .im  twelve 
years  old.      Your  loving  reader, 

Gertrude  Beatrice  Randall. 


East  House,  Kodai  Kaual. 

Dear  St.  Nicholas:  You  were  a  Christmas  present 
to  me  last  Christmas.  I  love  you.  I  think  that  you 
are  the  best  magazine  I  have  ever  had.  I  like  '  A 
Comedy  in  Wax,"  and  I  think  it  is  very,  very  interest- 
ing.  Every  time  I  come  in  from  play  I  don't  know 
what  to  do  with  myself,  and  then  I  see  St.  Nicholas 
on  the  table,  and  off  I  run  and  settle  down  to  read  the 
most  interesting  magazine  that  was  ever  printed. 

We  have  the  two  darlingest,  sweetest  kittens  ;  one  is 
perfectly  white  with  about  ten  little  black  hairs  in  the 
middle  of  its  forehead. 

I  learned  how  to  ride  a  bicycle  in  twenty-six  turns. 
By  that  I  mean  we  have  a  tennis-court  and  my  friend 
Pauline  Jeffery  taught  me  how;  two  or  three  times 
Pauline  had  to  help  me  off  and  on,  but  after  a  while  she 
said  that  I  must  learn  how  to  get  off,  and  I  have  learned. 

Good-by  ;  I  must  stop.  Your  verv  interested  reader, 
Martha  'M.  Van  Allen. 


Berkeley,  Cal. 
Dear  St.  Nicholas  :     I  have  a  little  joke  I  thought 
the  readers  of  St.  Nicholas  would  like  to  hear. 

The  teacher  at  school  caught  the  children  coughing 
wdien  they  wanted  to  speak  to  each  other,  so  she  said, 

_. ^.-,  ,  _  "Any  one  that  coughs  will  have  to  stay  after  school." 

boat   itself.      At  the  other  end  there  is  a  great  log  to     j^^^  ^^^^^  ^^^  ^  ]jj,jg  j^^y  ^.^^^g  (o  school  with  an  awful 

keep  the  water  from  washing  in,  and  two  large  rough  -     ■  ...      .,•._.,. u„, 

bars  are   fastened  on   either  side  near  this   log.     The 
wafons  and  animals  are  driven  in,  and  the  passengers 


go  on.  The  steersman  mounts  the  little  platform  at  the 
stern.  The  oarsmen  take  their  places,  and  the  boat 
moves  slowly  across.  If  it  is  very  heavily  loaded  and 
the  current  carries  it  in  crossing  too  far  downstream,  a 
rope  is  thrown  out  to  a  man  on  the  bank  and  the  boat 
is  towed  to  the  landing-place. 

In  winter  when  the  river  commences  to  freeze  the 
boat  often  gets  frozen  in  the  ice  that  forms  first  near 
the  shore,  and  the  post  and  travelers  have  to  wait  some- 
times four  weeks  for  the  river  to  freeze  solid  enough  for 
the  wagons  and  animals  to  cross.  This  ferry  is  in  the 
main  road  between  Constantinople  and  Bagdad. 


cough,  and  of  course  the  teacher  kept  him  after  school ; 
but  "lie  said  that  he  had  an  awful  cough,  so  she  let  him 
I  am  nine  years  old.     My  name  is 

Jane  Birdsall  Bangs. 


off  that  time. 


Bath,  Me. 

My  dear  St.  Nicholas:  I  think  you  are  the  best 
paper  I  have  taken.  My  aunt  gave  you  to  me.  My 
papa  took  you  w^hen  he  was  a  little  boy,  and  he  had  his 
bound,  and  we  read  them. 

I  love  to  read  the  letters,  and  hear  %vhat  other  little 
boys  and  girls  are  doing. 

I  am  (Toing  to  take  you  as  long  as  I  can.  I  love  you 
very  much.     Good-by.  Helen  Moses. 


r-\     i7h 


ANSWERS   TO   PUZZLES    IN  THE  AUGUST  NUMBER. 


Concealed  Word-square,  x.  Mayor.  2.  Above.  3.  Yokes. 
4.  Overt.     5.  Rests. 

Zigzag.  The  United  States  of  America.  Cross-words:  i.  Ot- 
toman. 2.  Achieve.  3.  Centra).  4.  Unicorn.  5.  Anemone.  6. 
Climate.  7.  Attempt.  8.  Earnest.  9.  Edifice.  10.  Mastery.  11. 
Itemize.  12.  Amateur.  13.  Attract.  14.  Cremate.  15.  Isthmus. 
16.  Oblique,  i^.  Afflict.  18.  Blazing.  19.  Amiable.  20.  Evi- 
dent.    21.   Brevity.     3z.  Spirits.     33.  Octagon.     24.  Arbiter. 


WoRO-SQUARF.. 

AnenL 


I.   Polka.     2.  Onon.     3.   Litre.     4.  Koran.     5. 


Zigzag  and  Final  Acrostic.  From  i  to  2,  John  Hay;  3  to  4, 
Emerson.  Crois-words:  i.  Judge,  a.  Totem.  3.  Hinge.  4.  En- 
ter.    5.   Holes.     6.   Ratio.  7.  Yearn. 

Ni'.MERiCAL  Enigma. 

Millions  of  merry  harlequins,  skipping  and  dancing  in  glee, 
Cricket  and  locust  and  grasshopper,  as  happy  as  happy  can  be. 


Novel  Acrostic.  Constitution.  Cross-words:  i.  Sextant-  2. 
Equator.  3.  Potency.  4.  Trifler.  5.  Epitaph.  6.  Mention.  7. 
Boorish.     8.   Espouse.     9.   Reading. 

Changed  Heads.  Ulysses  S.  Grant,  Andrew  Jackson,  i.  Us, 
as.  2.  Low,  now.  3.  Year,  dear.  4.  Said,  raid.  5.  Sat,  tat.  6. 
Ear,  war.  7.  Sack,  Jack.  8,  Sir,  air.  9.  Gap,  cap.  10.  Rid, 
kid.     11.  Aerial,  Serial.     12.  Nat,  oat.      13.  Took,  nook. 

Charade.     Pi-lot. 

Double  Diagonal.  Jefferson,  Cleveland.  Cross-words:  i. 
Journeyed.  2.  Recommend.  3.  Affiliate.  4.  Shuffling.  5.  Per- 
petual. 6.  Shivering.  7.  Treatises.  8.  Flutc-stup.  9.  Com- 
panion. 

Novel  Zigzag.  From  i  to  2,  Independence  D:»y ;  3  to  4, 
Thomas  Jefferson.  Cross-words:  i.  Ignorant.  2.  Unsought.  3. 
Undevout.  4.  Remember.  5.  Carapace.  6.  Easiness.  7.  Ejec- 
tion. 8.  Insnarcd.  0.  Effected.  10.  Infernal.  11.  Bedecked. 
12.   Exterior.     13.   Inclorsed.     14.  Cardamom.     15.   Yataghan. 


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  Sr.  Nichoi-as  Riddle-box,  care  of  The  Century  Co.,  33  East  Seventeenth  St.,  New  York  City. 

Answers  to  all  vhe  Puzzles  in  the  June  Ni'MDEr  were  received,  before  June  15th,  from  Frances  Hunter —  Dorothy  Knight  — 
Leonard  C.  Talpey — Benjamin  L.  Miller — Emily  P.  Burton  —  "Chuck" — "  AlHl  and  Adi  ** — Eleanor  Wyman — Nessie  and  Freddie 

—  Elizabeth  Thurston — Harriet  Bingaman  —  Paul  R.  Dcschcrc  —  Lucille  Craig  Dow  —  Jean,  Clare,  and  Roswcll  —  Virginia  Custer 
Canan  —  "St.  Gabriel's  Chapter"  —  Grace  Haren — "Johnny  Bear"  —  Florence  Alvarez  —  John  P.  Phillips  —  George  T.  Colman  — 
Eleanor  F.  .Malone. 

Answers  to  Puzzles  in  the  Jine  Number  were  received,  before  June  15th,  from  M.  Hoard,  i  —  D.  Nevin,  i  —  G.  D.  Ferguson,  i 

—  H.  G.  York,  I  —  L.  Eisendrath,  i  —  M.  Harding,  i  — V.  Martin,  t  —  D.  Mercer,  1  —  E.  Clement,  i —  Louise  Chalmers,  2  —  C.  E-  Hodges, 
Jr.,  1  —  S.  Brown,  i  —  No  name,  Marysville,  1 —  tt.  Shaeffer,  i —  Marie  Barrincer,  5  —  P.  B.  Noyes,  i--D.  HungerforJ.  i —  M.  Walker,  i 

—  E.  Dardcn,  i  —  M.  C.  Nelson,  i — J.  Mctcalf,  i  —  Polly  and  Peggy,  1 — Elinor  M.  P.  Price,  i  —  Florence  Goldman,  3 — E.  Moses,  1 

—  M.  Saltonsiall,  i  —  M.  C.  Troy,  i— J.  S.  Crandall,  i  — Arthur T.  Con,  6— Myrtle  Alderson,  6  — M.  H.  Pcabody.  i— F.  H.  Moeller,  1  — 
Margaret  C.  Wilby,  6  -^  Fredcrica  and  Lawrence  Mead,  j  —  E.  F,  Harrington,  2  —  Lucile  Doty,  i  —  N.  Gindrat,  i  —  H.  Bowman,  i  — 
A.  G.  Peirce,  i  — Euphcmia  Crugcr,  i. 


WORD-SQUAUE. 

I.  L.\ND  bordering  on  the  sen.  2.  Possessor.  3.  A 
feminine  name.  4.  To  snatch.  5.  Plants  of  the  largest 
class.  .\N.NA  c.  HEFFER.N  (League  Member). 

CHARADK. 

(GoUi  Batige,  St.  Nicholas  League  Competiilnn.) 

^"^  first  is  in  music  —  that  much  I  Ml  tell ; 

My  fast  will  sometimes  be  in  trade; 
And  you  don't  want  to  buy  or  sell 

Unless  you  know  my  whole  is  made. 

MARY   SALMON*. 

CONNKCTKD    M'ORD -SQUARES. 


I.    Upi'ER  Left-hand  Squ.are  :    i.  An  infant.     2. 
The  agave.     3.    Part  of  a  spoon.     4.    Part  of  an  egg. 


IL  Upper  Right-hand  Sqi'ake:  i.  A  long  slick. 
2.    Unreserved.     3.   l"o  loan.     4.   Stops. 

III.  Central  Square:  i.  Cattle,  2.  Anything 
worshiped.     3.    A  cozy  corner.     4.   Large  deer. 

IV.  Lower  Left-hand  Sqiare:  i.  Inactive. 
2.  An  act.     3.  A  metal.     4.  A  whirlpool. 

V.  Lower  Right-hand  Square:  i.  To  pierce 
with  a  pointed  weapon.  2.  A  narrow  woven  fabric 
used  for  strings.     3.   Mimics.     4.   Most  correct. 

MARGARET  GRIFFITH  (League  Member). 

TRAVELING  PUZZLE. 

Begin  each  word  with  the  final  letters  of  the  preced- 
ing word.  Sometimes  two  letters  are  used,  sometimes 
three.     Example:   Boston,  once,  centipede,  Detroit,  etc. 

I  went  from  Chicago  to  Venice  one  year. 
And  the  fare  that  I  paid  was  exceedingly  dear. 

1.  A  fairy  that  mischief  can  make. 

2.  What  a  doctor  prescribed  for  an  ache. 

3.  A  dreamer  of  power. 

4.  A  beautiful  flower. 

5.  A  blunder,  perhaps  a  mistake. 

6.  A  man  skilled  in  eloquent  speech. 

7.  The  home  of  the  sweet,  juicy  peach. 

8.  Very  warm,  I  confess. 

9.  To  involve  in  distress. 

10.   To  judge  well  and  kindly  of  each. 

ANNA    M.    PRATT. 


1056 


THE    RIDDLE-BOX. 


rLLUSTKATED  ACROSTIC. 

When  the  eight  objects  in  the  above  picture  have  been 
rightly  guessed,  and  the  names  written  one  below  an- 
other in  the  order  given,  one  of  the  rows  of  letters, 
reading  downward,  will  spell  a  holiday. 

DIAGONALS. 

{Silver  Badges,  St.  Nicholas  League  Competition.) 


was  a  famous  writer,  and  29-60-74-3-5-8-70  was  his 
most  famous  book.  My  15-67-30-38-52-11  is  a  Southern 
writer.  My  49-9-82-2-33-42  was  an  English  lyric  poetess. 
^y  '9-55-7-34  "as  a  famous  poet  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  My  56-62-7S-36-1-58-80-17  was  the' literary 
partner  of  Beaumont.  My  77-1S-71-37-65  is  a  modern 
English  novelist.  My  25-32-59-51-37  was  an  .American 
journalist  and  poet.  My  44-21-83-26  64-75  "'^s  the  name 
of  the  author  of"  Pride  and  Prejudice."  My  45-31  is  a 
conjunction.  My  79-43-9-75-1 1-50-38  was  a  celebrated 
English  poet  of  the  sixteenth  century.  My  14-74-54-63- 
24-22  was  an  American  poet  and  traveler. 

CAROLis  R.  WEBB  (League  Member). 


I.  Cross-words:  i.  A  large  peninsula  of  North 
America.  2.  The  calendula.  3.  A  month.  4.  A  fem- 
inine name.  5.  Crouching.  6.  A  famous  British  drama- 
tist who  was  born  in  September  more  than  a  hundred 
and  fifty  years  ago.  7.  Pertaining  to  a  continent.  8. 
What  Sh.ikspere  says  is  "  for  remembrance." 

Diagonals,  from  I  to  2,  a  holiday.      M.1KION  POND. 

IL  Cross-words:  i.  .'V  musician.  2.  The  Christian 
name  of  a  woman  who  became  famous  during  the 
Crimean  War.  3.  Temporary  forts.  4.  Puzzles  of  a 
certain  kind.  5.  To  reclaim  from  a  savage  slate.  6.  .\ 
single,  unvaried  tone  or  sound.  7.  Robbery.  S.  .\ 
day  of  the  week. 

Diagonals,  from  i  to  2,  something  dear  to  every 
American.  M.A.ki.\N  p.  toulmi.\. 


DOUBLE   ACROSTIC. 

My  primals  name  a  State  and  my  finals  name  its 
capital. 

Cross-words  (of  unequal  length):  i.  A  contrivance 
for  admitting  fresh  air.  2.  The  chief  river  of  Burma.  3. 
A  monstrous  bird  of  .Arabian  mythology.  4.  Showy. 
5.  A  phrase  peculiar  to  a  language.  6.  A  negative.  7. 
Pertaining  to  India.     8.   To  augment. 

J.  DONALD  KINDERDI.N'E  (League  Member). 


TRANSPOSITIONS  AND  ZIGZAG. 

{Gold  Badge,  St.  Nicholas  League  Competition.) 


NOVEL    ACROSTIC. 

The  following  words  are  of  unequal  length.  When 
rightly  guessed  and  written  one  below  another,  the  first 
row  of  letters,  reading  downward,  will  spell  a  season, 
and  the  second  row,  reading  upward,  will  spell  a  month. 

Cross-words:  i.  A  coral  island.  2.  Long-con- 
tinued pr.ictice.  3.  .A  head-dress.  4.  Unsightly.  5. 
To  ponder.     6.   Part  of  the  neck. 

coR.\  SMITH  (League  Member). 

LITERARY  NUMERICAL  ENIG.IIA. 

I  AM  composed  of  eighly-three  letters  and  form  a  quo- 
tation from  a  poem  by  J.  G.  Saxe. 

My  37-6-66  24-81  was  the  founder  of  the  English 
novel.  My  41-6S-63-10-55-46  was  a  blind  poet.  My 
73-21-13-48  was  an  English  poet  and  essayist.  My 
72-40-57-51-16-30  was  an  eighteenth-centurv  publication 
founded  by  35-4-39-28-53-23.  My  61-53-37-69-12-I-27 
is  the  author  of  "  Marjorie  L^aw."     My  76-1-^5-2047 


I.  TkANSFOSEbellows.and  make  deliberate.  2.  Trans- 
pose forces  in,  and  make  the  god  of  war.  3.  Transpose 
moving  with  pain  or  difficulty  on  account  of  injury,  and 
'make  flour.  4.  Transpose  a  collar-button,  and  make 
powder.  5.  Transpose  duration,  and  make  to  give  forth. 
6.  Transpose  to  spring,  and  make  an  entreaty.  7. 
Transpose  a  lineage,  and  make  a  small  measure  of  land. 
8.  Transpose  an  entrance,  and  make  a  perfume.  9. 
Transpose  a  girl,  and  make  among.  lo.  Transpose  to 
ponder,  and  make  large  Australian  birds.  II.  Trans- 
pose  unites  firmly,  and  make  situation. 

When  the  transpositions  have  been  rightly  made  and 
the  words  placed  one  below  another,  the  zigzag  (as 
shown  in  the  above  diagram)  will  spell  the  name  of  a 
Revolutionary  patriot  who  was  born  in  September,  1722. 

LOUISE    FITZ. 


THE    DE    VINNE    PRESS,  NEW    YORK. 


"•33-134. 


■CHAO   CHAHNG   STRUCK   HIM  A  SWEEPING   SIDE    BLUW   WITH 
HIS  TRUNK."    (See  page  1064.) 


ST.   NICHOLAS. 


V(.i..  XXXl. 


OCTOHKR,     1904. 


Copyright.  1904,  by  The  Century  Co      All  rights  reserved. 


Xo.  12. 


,VJ^ 


.V'.f-f     k 


Any  one  who  thinks  the  elephant  a  slow, 
clumsy  beast  would  have  cause  to  change  his 
opinion  on  seeing  him  at  work  along  the  rivers 
of  northern  Siam.  The  rainy  season,  which  be- 
gins in  April,  is  the  time  when  the  teak  logs,  cut 
during  the  dry  season  in  the  forests  about  the 
u|)per  waters  of  the  Menam  River,  are  floated 
down  to  Rahang,  where  tiiey  are  caught  and 
rafted  to  Bangkok.  Instead  of  red-shirted, 
spiked-shoed  "  river-drivers "  such  as  handle 
the  logs  in  their  downstream  journey  to  the 
sawmills  on  the  Penobscot  and  Kennebec  in 
Maine,  the  "  lumber-driving "  of  the  Siamese 
rivers  is  done  by  barefooted,  half-naked  men  on 
elephants,  and  the  "bone"  labor  and  much  of 
the  thinking  involved  in  the  o])eration  are  done 
by  the  elephants. 

The  middle  of  fune,  some  vears  ago,  found 


the  drive  of  teak  logs  tlwt  I  was  taking  down 
the  Me-ping  River  about  half-way  on  its  journey 
from  the  cuttings  to  Rahang.  My  crew  con- 
.sisted  of  twenty  elephants  with  their  Shan  and 
Lao  mahouts,  or  keepers,  who  drove  the  logs, 
and  as  many  bullock-drivers,  choppers,  and  men- 
ofall-work  to  attend  to  the  camps  and  haul 
supplies.  Boats  were  needless,  for  there  was 
no  water  too  deep  or  current  too  strong  for  the 
elephants,  who  went  up  and  down  the  steepest 
slopes  and  over  rocks  like  great  cats  as  they 
patrolled  the  river,  rolling  into  the  current  with 
heads,  trunks,  and  tusks  the  logs  stranded  along 
the  channel,  or  wading  out  into  cataracts  to 
break  a  forming  jam.  All  these  elephants  were 
tuskers,  except  my  riding  elejihant,  Lala,  and 
the  biggest  and  strongest  and  most  docile  of 
all  was  Prahada's  elephant,  Chao  Chahng,  the 


io6o 


CHAO  CHAHXG  AND  THE  MAN-EATER. 


(Oct. 


in  the  head,  causing  him  to  drop  the  man  and 
sneak  away  in  the  darkness.  The  tracks  of  the 
tiger  showed  him  to  be  a  very  large  as  well  as 
bold  one  ;  but  after  his  experience  with  the 
firebrand,  he  was  not  likely,  so  the  men  as- 
sured me,  to  venture  into  the  camp  again 
while  fires  were  burning  there.  The  man  was 
not  dangerously  hurt,  and  we  hoped  that  our 
troubles  from  wild  beasts  were  ended,  as  they 
had  begun,  with  this  visit. 

But  we  were  not  to  be  rid  of  the  tiger  so 
easily.    He  was  lurking  along  our  line  of  work 
on    the    river    next   day,    as  the   alarm 
shown  by  the  elephants  on  several  oc- 
casions testified.    When  night  came  on 
and  most  of  the  men  and  elephants 
were  back  in  camp,  Prahada,  who 


chief,  who  stood  ten  feet  high  at  the  shoul- 
der. Prahada  was  a  northern  Lao,  a  thorough 
maiLi  chahng,  or  elephant-master,  who,  like  all 
good  mahouts,  was  on  the  best  of  terms  with 
his  animal,  and  I  had  learned  that  the  two 
were  to  be  depended  upon  to  carrv  through  the 
hardest  jobs  that  by  any  chance  might  come  up 
in  the  day's  work. 

In  camping  in  the  forest  it  was  not  unusual 
for  us  to  find,  of  a  morning,  the  tracks  of  some 
wild  animal  which  had  reconnoitered  the  camp 
during  the  night.  Such  a  discovery  excited  no 
particular  alarm,  as  the  prowling  beasts  of 
Siam  commonly  avoid  man,  and  the  worst  that 
was  looked  for  from  a  tiger  or  panther  was  that 
he  might  spring  upon  a  straying  buffalo  or  goat. 
Hence  it  was  the  unexpected  which  happened, 
when  a  tiger  one  evening,  with  the  whole  camp 
awake,  seized  a  man  who  had  gone  a  few  steps 
from  one  of  the  fires  to  fetch  wood  to  replenish 
it.  At  his  outcry  and  the  sound  of  the  tiger's 
growl,  the  Shans  and  Laos,  realizing  at  once 
what  was  to  be  done,  caught  blazing  brands 
from  the  fire  and  rushed  to  their  comrade's 
rescue.     \  brand  flung  at  the  tiger  struck  him 


"  STRETCHING    BOTH    FORE    LEGS    STRAIGHT    OUT    BEFORE    HIM,   HE 
WENT    SLIDING  DOWN   THE   SLOPE."       (SEE    PAGE    I063.) 

had  been  sent  that  day  far  upstream,  had  not 
returned.  Presently  the  crashing  sound  of  an 
elephant  coming  at  full  speed  w-as  heard  in  the 
forest,  and  soon  Chao  Chahng  appeared  in  a 
state  of  great  excitement,  and  Prahada  was  not 
on  his  back.  He  halted  among  the  other  ele- 
phants, and  then  we  saw  that  his  back  was 
torn  by  a  tiger's  claws.  I  made  up  a  search- 
ing-party, and  by  the  light  of  torches  we  went 


CHAO    CIIAHXr.    AXn    THK     MAN-IiATER. 


IO61 


back  over  the  elephant's  trail  for  half  a  mile. 
Then  rain  began  to  fall,  ending  our  search,  as 
it  blotted  out  the  tracks,  and  we  returned,  hav- 
ing found  no  sign  of  Prahada. 

The  story  of  the  tragedy  we  never  learned 
except  as  it  was  written  in  the  wounds  on  Chao 
Chahng's  back.  The  claw-marks  showed  that 
the  tiger  had  leaped  on  him  from  behind,  and, 
as  was  to  be  e.xpected,  he  had  run  away,  for  an 
attack  from  that  quarter  will  throw  the  brav- 
est and  steadiest  elephant  into  an  uncontroll- 
able panic.  Whether  Prahada  slipped  to  the 
ground,  was  pulled  down  from  his  seat  by  the 
tiger,  or  was  brushed  off  by  the  big  elephant's 
running  under  a  tree  could  only  be  guessed  at, 
for  no  trace  of  him  was  ever  found.  That  the 
tiger  which  killed  and  carried  him  off  was  of 
uncommon  fierceness  was  shown  by  his  leaping 
upon  an  elephant  so  formidable  in  size  as  Chao 
Chahng. 

There  was  reason  to  fear  that  the  big  ele- 
phant, having  felt  the  tiger's  claws,  and  missing 
the  mahout  to  whom  he  was  accustomed,  might 


refuse  to  work  again  on  the  river;  but  Prahim, 
a  cousin  of  Prahada,  took  Chao  Chahng  out 
ne.\t  day  with  the  others  and  put  him  through 
his  tasks  without  trouble.  It  was  evident  that 
the  great  creature  mourned  for  his  dead  master, 
as  was  shown  by  his  restlessness  at  night,  and 
by  his  utterance  of  a  moaning  sound  from  time 
to  time,  very  different  from  the  grunt  and  snort 
of  the  other  elephants.  That  the  great,  patient 
creature  was  to  be  the  avenger  of  his  slain 
master  no  one  in  the  camp  could  have  thought 
or  dreamed. 

The  tiger  gave  no  further  sign  of  his  presence 
either  by  day  or  night  about  the  cam]),  where, 
for  precaution,  fires  were  kept  burning  from  sun- 
set to  daylight.  The  following  day  some  of  the 
elephants  working  above  the  camp  showed  fear 
of  something  that  they  saw  or  scented  in  the 
undergrowth  on  the  river-bank ;  but  as  I  sent 
them  out  now  in  companies  of  three  together, 
the  tiger,  if  he  was  lurking  about,  did  not  ven- 
ture to  attack  any  of  them.  But  he  prowled 
near  the  camp  that  night,  as  we  saw  by  his  tracks 
next  morning. 

"  To-day  —  one,  two,  three  since  Prahada 
went,"  said  a  Lao  forester  to  me,  holding  up 
his  fingers  one  after  another  to  signify  the 
lapse  of  days  :  and  shaking  his  head  gloomily, 
he  added  :  "  Now  the  tiger  will  come  back 
again." 
After  the  recent  tragedy,  with  the  knowledge 


^-^*:ai<^l 


10(32 


CHAO    CHAHXG    AND    THE    MAX-EATER. 


[Oct. 


that  the  tiger  which  carried  Prahada  off  was 
awaiting  his  chance  for  the  next  victim,  it  was 
a  matter  of  course  that  both  elephants  and  men 
should  become  demorahzed  and  that  work 
should  lag.  Several  of  the  men,  two  with  ele- 
phants, (juit  my  service  under  various  pretexts, 
but  reall)  from  fear  of  the  tiger,  and  I  knew 
that  if  another  man  were  carried  off  by  him  it 
would  mean  a  general  stampede  of  my  force. 
With  the  jnirchasing  firm  at  Bangkok  impa- 
tiently awaiting  the  news  of  the  arrival  of  the 
logs  at  Rahang,  I  had  to  see  my  work  hindered 
and  in  danger  of  coming  to  a  standstill  through 
one  murderous  brute,  which  could  not  be  killed 
or  frightened  away,  unless  by  some  accident, 
which  was  not  at  all  likely.  I  carried  my 
repeating-rifle  on  mv  trips  from  the  camp,  partly 
in  the  huj)e  of  catching  a  "  snap-shot  "  at  the 
tiger,  but  more  to  inspire  my  men  with  courage 
and  confidence ;  and  further  to  inspirit  them  I 
added  fowls  to  their  ration  of  rice,  made  presents 
of  fancy  cloths  and  tobacco  to  the  subforemen, 
and  promised  that  every  elephant-driver  should 
receive  five  silver  coins  beyond  his  stated  pay 
if  the  logs  were  all  down  at  Rahang  by  the  first 
day  of  July. 

Tlie  tail  of  the  drive  was  lodged  at  some 
rapids  five  miles  up  the  river,  and  by  clearing 
these  it  would  be  practicable  to  move  camp  a 
day  or  two  later,  which  might  take  us  below 
the  ranging  of  the  tiger,  who  had  made  his 
presence  known  to  us  in  every  instance  from 
somewhere  above  the  camp.  None  of  the  men 
or  elephants  liked  to  be  sent  in  this  direction, 
and  so  for  this  work,  on  the  third  day,  I  de- 
tailed four  of  the  best  tuskers  and  drivers,  and 
accompanied  them  on  my  riding  elephant.  My 
presence,  with  the  ritle  slung  to  my  riding-pad, 
gave  courage  to  the  men.  which  was  imparted 
to  their  elephants,  and  they  worked  so  well  that 
by  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  the  rapids  were 
cleared. 

Below  the  rapids  the  river  broadened  into  a 
long  pool  a  quarter  of  a  mile  wide,  and  of  a 
depth  of  three  or  four  feet  except  where  the 
current  had  cut  a  deep  channel  along  the  foot 
of  the  high  eastern  bank.  At  the  edge  of  the 
rapids  on  the  east  side,  as  I  waited  for  Chao 
Chahng  to  push  the  last  log  into  the  current,  I 
called  to  the  three  mahouts  across  the  stream  to 


keep  on  down  the  west  bank,  intending  myself  to 
take  a  forest  path  leading  to  the  foot  of  the 
pool  on  the  east.  They  had  disappeared  round 
a  bend  in  the  shore,  and  Lala  was  leading  the 
way  up  the  east  bank  from  the  river,  when  my 
rifle  slipped  from  its  slings  and  fell  upon  the 
rocks.  At  his  mahout's  command.  Chao  Chahng, 
coming  on  behind  us,  picked  it  up  with  his 
trunk  and  passed  it  back  to  me,  when  I  found 
that  the  hammer  was  jammed  by  the  fall  and 
so  would  not  work.  We  got  upon  the  high 
ground,  and  I  was  hoping  as  we  went  on  that 
the  tiger  would  not  take  this  time  to  show  him- 
self, when  we  heard  the  three  elephants  across 
the  river  all  trumpeting  together.  .Something 
in  their  note  our  animals  seemed  to  understand, 
for  at  the  sound  Lala  opened  out  her  ears  like 
fans  and  quickened  her  pace,  and  I  could  hear 
the  big  elephant  gathering  speed  behind  her. 
Another  minute  and  Chao  Chahng,  acting  as 
if  he  were  beyond  all  control  of  his  mahout, 
rushed  past  us  and  soon  was  lost  to  view  among 
the  trees  ahead. 

Suspecting  the  cause  of  the  trum])eting,  I  told 
my  mahout  to  keep  as  close  after  Chao  Chahng 
as  he  could,  and  we  hurried  along  until,  in 
making  a  cut-off  from  the  path,  we  came  in 
view  of  the  river,  and  the  mahout,  bringing 
Lala  to  a  sudden  halt,  pointed  with  his  hand 
out  upon  the  pool.  Above  the  surface  near  the 
opposite  bank  was  the  black-and-yellow  head 
of  a  swimming  tiger,  the  ripples  of  his  wake 
widening  back  to  the  low,  wooded  shore,  while 
after  him  into  the  water  came  the  three  ele- 
]ihants  with  their  mahouts  urging  them  on. 
They  had  discovered  the  tiger  crossing  the 
river,  and  knowing  that  in  the  water  he  was 
helpless  to  attack  them,  the  mahouts  had  not 
hesitated  to  put  their  elephants  at  him.  The 
tiger,  realizing  his  disadvantage,  was  swimming 
fast  for  the  eastern  bank,  with  excellent  pros- 
pects, as  far  as  we  could  see,  of  making  it  .safely, 
for  Lala  was  of  no  use  against  him,  and  Chao 
Chahng,  who  might  possibly  have  headed  him 
off  in  the  water,  had  run  away. 

With  my  rifle  useless  and  believing  that  Lala 
would  bolt  as  soon  as  the  tiger  touched  the 
shore,  I  was  thinking  of  following  the  big  ele- 
phant's example,  when  I  heard  him  coming 
back.     He  had  been  running,  not  from  fear,  but 


CIlAii    tllAIIMi      \\n     I  III;     M  \.N-K.\  TKR. 


lOb: 


to  search  out  a  place  where  he  could  gel  down 
to  the  water  without  breaking  his  neck,  and  now 
he  emerged  from  the  woods  at  the  brink  of  the 
high  Ijank  in  hne  with  the  course  in  wliich  tiie 
tiger  was  swimming.  He  advanced,  testing  liis 
footing,  until  the  dirt  at  the  edge,  crumbling 
under  his  feet,  began  to  rattle  down  to  the 
water ;  then  stretching  both  fore  legs  straight 
out  before  him,  he  curved  his  big  body  over  the 
brink,  and  went  sliding  down  the  slope.  The 
tiger,  seeing  him  coming,  turned  back  toward 


rose  some  three  feet  above  the  water's  surface, 
and  .scrambled  upon  it.  Here  he  bristled  and 
roared,  while  the  four  elepliants  came  up  and 
lined  themselves  around  him.  At  my  com- 
mand, the  maliout  turned  Lala  back  toward  the 
cataract,  and  fording  the  river  there,  forced  her 
out  into  the  pool  above  the  other  elephants, 
wliere  she  took  a  position  from  which  I 
could  see  all  that  went  on. 

Had  my  rifle  been  in  working  order  1  could 
have  settled  matters  with  the  tiger  where  he 


"HERE    HE    BKlSTLEt)   AND   ROAKED,    WHILE  THE   FOUR    ELEPHANTS  CAME    UP  AND   LINED  THEMSELVES  AROUND    HIM. 


the  middle  of  the  stream.  The  bank  fell  fifty 
feet  down  to  the  water,  and  was  very  steep,  and 
how  Chao  Chahng  avoided  turning  a  somer- 
sault or  two  on  the  way  is  a  mystery ;  but 
somehow  he  kept  "  right  .side  up,"  and,  with 
Prahim  hanging  desperately  to  the  girth  to  save 
himself  from  dropping  over  his  head,  he  plunged 
into  the  water.  From  a  fountain  of  mud  and 
spray  his  trunk  emerged,  and  then  the  top  of  his 
back,  moving  out  into  the  river,  with  the  ma- 
hout ('limbing  to  his  place  on  the  neck.  Like  a 
monitor  in  a  running  tide  the  elephant  pro- 
pelled himself  across  the  dcej)  channel,  and, 
gaining  his  footing  in  the  shallower  water  be- 
yond, he  loomed  up,  confronting  the  tiger, 
which  turned  and  swam  to  a  great  boulder  that 


stood,  for  no  hunter  could  have  asked  for  a 
surer  shot  than  he  presented.  With  my  rifle 
disabled  the  situation  was  quite  another  thing. 
On  the  rock  the  tiger  stood  level  witii  the  shoul- 
ders of  the  elej)hants,  and  for  tliem  to  close  in 
upon  him  where  his  spring  would  land  him 
scjuarely  upon  the  nearest  one's  head  was  too 
much  to  e.xpect  of  elephants  or  mahouts.  From 
a  safe  distance  away  they  trumpeted  and  threat- 
ened him  with  their  trunks,  but  came  no  nearer, 
while  the  tiger,  facing  one  and  another  in  turn, 
made  feints  of  springing  upon  each,  but  refused 
to  quit  the  rock.  Even  Chao  Chahng,  who 
plainly  was  there  for  business  with  the  tiger, 
was  not  disposed,  with  the  scratches  still  fresh  on 
his  back,  to  give  him  a  second  chance  to  find  a 


1064 


CHAO  CHAHNG  AND  THE  MAN-EATER. 


foothold  there.  And  all  the  while  we  were  so 
near  the  tiger  that  I  could  see  the  line  of  singed 
hair  along  his  head  where  the  firebrand  had 
struck  when  he  tried  to  carry  away  tlie  man  at 
the  camp  a  few  nights  before. 

After  a  half-hour  of  waiting,  with  nothing 
gained,  I  was  debating  with  myself  whether  a 
fire-raft  would  be  more  likely  to  dislodge  the 
tiger  than  to  stampede  the  elephants,  when  the 
muddy  water  grew  more  turbid  and  I  could  see 
that  it  was  rising  round  the  rock.  A  rainfall 
somewhere  up  the  river  was  the  cause  of  the 
change,  which  might  indicate  a  trifling  rise  or  a 
sweeping  freshet.  The  elephants  already  were 
quite  deep  in  the  pool,  and  if  the  water  kept  on 
rising  it  was  certain  that  tlicy  would  not  stay 
until  it  was  high  enough  to  force  the  tiger  from 
the  rock.  In  five  minutes,  however,  the  water 
had  risen  a  foot,  and  the  elephants  now  were 
looking  anxiously  from  the  tiger  up  to  where 
the  rapids  were  beginning  to  roar  with  the  com- 
ing flood.  Every  tropical  beast  stands  in  su- 
preme dread  of  an  inundation,  and  the  tiger 
turned  from  his  besiegers  to  sniff  and  growl  in 
a  new  key  as  the  roar  of  the  cataract  grew 
louder  and  the  rising  water  washed  up  against 
his  paws.  With  the  stream  surging  against  their 
shoulders,  the  elephants  shifted  about  in  their 
tracks  so  as  to  face  the  current,  and  the  ma- 
houts had  to  keep  up  a  continual  shouting,  and 
work  their  great-toes  vigorously  against  the 
backs  of  the  flapping  ears,  to  prevent  the  un- 
easy animals  from  returning  to  the  shore.  Only 
Chao  Chahng  held  his  ground,  facing  the  tiger, 
while  Lala,  shuffling  round  uneasily,  seemed 
undecided  as  to  whether  her  safer  course  were 
to  remain  under  his  protection  or  to  take  to 
her  heels. 

Something  drifted  past  me  toward  the  rock 
—  a  great  teak  log  that  the  rising  water  had 
brought  down  from  somewhere  upstream.  As 
it  scraped  along  the  rock  the  tiger  several  times 
seemed  on  the  point  of  stepping  upon  the  log. 


He  hesitated,  but  just  as  its  rear  end  was  pass- 
ing he  glided  upon  it.  The  heavy  log,  float- 
ing deep  in  the  water,  sank  lower  beneath  his 
weight  as,  crawling  to  the  middle  of  it,  he  was 
borne  from  the  rock.  While  the  other  mahouts 
vainly  tried  to  force  their  elephants  to  the  log, 
Chao  Chahng,  at  Prahim's  word,  pushed  swiftly 
forward  upon  the  tiger,  who,  balancing  himself 
ujion  his  unsteady  support,  could  move  only  for- 
ward or  backward.  At  sight  of  the  tusks  and 
upraised  trunk  above  him,  the  tiger,  turning, 
with  a  whine  of  fear  crept  swiftly  back  on  the 
log,  evidently  hoping  to  regain  his  place  on 
the  rock.  But  Chao  Chahng,  following  his  move- 
ment, struck  him  a  sweeping  side  blow  with  his 
trunk  that  sent  him  flying  into  the  water.  The 
other  tuskers,  no  longer  to  be  restrained,  were 
plunging  for  the  shore,  and  Lala  bolted  after 
them.  I  caught  one  glimpse  of  the  big  elephant 
rushing  upon  the  tiger  struggling  at  the  surface, 
and  after  that,  while  Lala  took  the  rocks  and 
holes  at  the  bottom,  I  was  kept  too  busy  holding 
myself  by  the  ropes  to  the  pad  to  turn  my  head 
until  we  were  at  the  shore.  Then,  looking  back, 
I  saw  the  water  swirling  over  the  rock,  and 
above  the  surface  only  the  floating  log.  and 
Chao  Chahng  stalking  shoreward  through  the 
flood  with  the  air  of  having  just  discovered  that 
the  river  was  rising. 

We  made  our  way  down  the  shore  to  the 
camp,  where  the  men,  on  learning  that  the  man- 
eater  was  killed,  built  bonfires  in  rejoicing,  and, 
to  the  accompaniment  of  flute  and  pipe,  ^sang 
songs  for  half  the  night  in  celebration  of  Chao 
Chahng  and  his  victory  over  the  tiger.  The 
river  rose  five  feet  in  an  hour,  and  when  it  had 
subsided  next  day  the  tiger's  body  was  found  a 
mile  below  the  pool,  stranded  on  a  bar.  It 
had  been  too  long  in  the  water  for  the  skin  to 
be  worth  saving,  but  I  wore  one  of  his  claws  on 
mv  watch-guard  at  Rahang  on  the  Fourth  of 
July,  which  day  found  our  camp  there,  with  all 
the  logs  in  boom,  ready  for  rafting. 


■■— *    ■      i"-*^'- 


IHE  ■■  ll.VlXi;    DUrCHMAN."     (See    i'ace    1150) 
1065 


AN   INCIDENT  IN  REAL   LIFE. 


FATHER    TOI.TJ   JIMMY   TO    GO   INTO  THE 
COMING   IN    AN    HOC 


LIBRARY   AND   PLT   HIS   COPIES   OK    ST.    NICHOLAS    IN    OkDER. 
;    LATER.    THIS    IS    WHAT    FATHER    FOINU. 


ELINOR    ARnKN,    ROYALIST, 


B\'  Marv  Consta.nck  Du  Bois. 


(Begun  in  the  A  ugtist  ntttitlvr, ) 

Chapter  VII. 

ELINOR     iO    THE    RESCUE. 

As  Elinor  paused,  breathless,  unable  to  push 
her  way  farther,  the  crowd  before  her  divided, 
and  she  beheld  the  prisoners  and  their  guard. 
She  gazed  anxiously  at  the  soldier,  whose  face 
was  grimly  resolute,  and  whose  erect,  powerful  lating.  Now  and  then  one  of  the  bolder  spirits 
frame  looked  unyielding  as  a  rock.  He  still  would  put  a  question  to  the  soldier  on  guard, 
kept  a  heavy  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  Francois,  and  receive  a  growling  answer  which  promised 
whose  clenched  fists  and  fiercely  gleaming  eyes     ill  for  the  prisoners. 

told  of  a  desperate  struggle,  in  which  he  was         Bits  of  conversation   came  to  Elinor's  ears. 

1066 


scarcely  yet  subdued.  And  Marie?  It  was  dif- 
ficult to  believe  that  the  poor,  cowering  peas- 
ant-woman was  really  a  fair  and  proud  lady. 
She  had  sunk  down  on  the  grass,  her  head 
drooping,  holding  the  child  close  in  her  arms. 
Pushing  and  jostling  in  their  eagerness,  men 
and  serving-maids  and  village  folk  gazed  and 
gaped,  whispering  to  one  another  and  gesticu- 


Kl.IM'R     AKDKX,    ROVAl.lsr. 


I  06; 


'■'lusli!      '1'  is  lull  a  i>oor  gipsy  pair — what 
harm  can  they  do?      Let  'em  go,  say  I." 

"What   harm,  say  you?     The   vagabonds  I 
'I'he  man  will  hang  for  a  thief,  I  warrant." 

"  Nay,  an  ye  'd  heard  that  fellow  speak,  as 
I  did!  'T  was  the  very  fiend's  jnrLron.  T  tell 
ve,  the  man's  a  wiz 
ard." 

"  Ay,  and  the  wo 
man  a  witch!  Best  ti 
the  pond  with  'em. 
and  see  whether  they 
sink  or  swim." 

Was  there  any  hojn 
left?  I'oor  Elinoi 
grew  sick  with  fright 

Suddenlv  a  voict 
beside  her  said,  "Well, 
whatever  they  be,  1 
trow  Captain  Law- 
rence will  give  them 
their    deserts." 

Captain  Lawrence! 
Of  course  it  was  for 
him  that  they  waited. 
Starting  out  of  her  be- 
wilderinent,  she  strug- 
gled back  through  the 
crowd,  and  ran  to  tin 
house.  Fairly  tum- 
bling against  Dame 
Hester,  who  stood 
with  Radiel  and  Bess 
on  the  threshold,  and 
slipping  from  her 
aunt's  detaining  hand, 
she  hurried  intloors, 
and  upstairs  toward 
the   guest-chamber. 

At  that  very  moment 
Captain  Lawrencewas 
coming  down  the  hall 
with  the  soldier  who 
had  brought  hiin  news  of  ilie  arrest.  .\  (juic  k 
pattering  of  feet  sounded  on  the  stair-case,  and 
an  eager  little  figure  came  flying  up  to  them, 
and  almost  into  the  captain's  arms.  Almost 
breathless,  the  child  called  : 

"  Cajitain     Lawrence— stay !       Oh,     please, 
please  let  me  speak  to  von!  " 


"Why,  why,  how  now!  Mistress  Elinor! 
What  's  tliis?  "  e.xclaimed  the  young  officer. 

"Let  them  go!  Oh,  pray  let  them  go! 
It  's  not  their  fault— it  's  mine  !  I  did  it  — I 
hid  them  !  " 

"What?      Wlio'     The  ]irisoners?  " 


I  II. t.     KKI   I 


lill.W  \      H.ANO    ri'ON     IH 


"Yes,  yes!  .\nd  they  're  innocent  —  trul_\' 
they  're  innocent.  Oh,  let  them  not  be 
harmed! " 

Captain  Lawrence  looked  in  amazement  at 
the  child,  as  she  paused  for  breath,  panting, 
almost  sobbing  with  excitement. 

"Come,"  lie  said,  "I  must  know  the  mean- 


io68 


ELINOR    ARDEN,    ROYALIST. 


[Oct. 


ing  of  this."  And  he  led  her  to  the  hall  be- 
low. 

"  So — now  we  're  alone.  Now  tell  me  all 
about  it,"  and  the  captain  smiled  encourage- 
ment. "  You  know  them,  you  say?  You  hid 
them?  " 

"Oh,  sir!  'T  was  for  the  baby's  sake.  It 
was  so  late,  last  night,  and  they  had  nowhere 


"   'WHV,    WHY,    HOW    now!      MISTRESS    ELINOR!      WHAT    's   THIS 

to  go — and  Pierre  had  no  supper — and  Marie 
was  so  "weary.  They  're  on  their  way  to 
France,  you  see,  and  they  'd  walked  miles  and 
miles,  and  could  go  no  farther.  And  she  told 
me  they  were  poor  servants,  and  begged  me 
to  help  her.  And  I  could  not  leave  them  out 
there  in  the  woods  all  night — not  with  the  baby, 
—so  I  hid  them  in  the  old  chapel  where  the 
sheep  are  kept  in  winter.     And  —  I  dared  not 


tell  Aunt  Hester.  And  they  were  going  away 
just  now,  only  your  men  caught  them — and 
you  see  they  were  doing  no  harm!  And  oh, 
sir,  the  folk  are  all  so  fierce  against  them! 
They  think  the  man  's  a  wizard,  when  he  's 
only  speaking  French!  But  you  will  sa-se 
them?     Oh,  say  you  will!  " 

The  young  officer  looked  down  at  the 
flushed,  pleading  face.  He  felt  the  clasp  of 
the  little  cold  fingers,  as  in  her  earnestness  she 
caught  his  hand  in  hers. 

"Save  them?  Two  poor  wayfarers  and  a 
babe — was  't  not  so?  No,  my  little  maiden, 
the  war  deals  not  with  such.  I  must,  in  sooth, 
look  into  the  matter.  But  never  fear!  Come, 
you  shall  see  for  yourself." 

The  crowd  on  the  lawn  was  growing  impa- 
tient, and   not  alone  to  learn  the  fate  of  the 
prisoners,  for   those  who  had  been  absent  on 
the  previous  day  were  longing  for  a  sight  of  the 
captain  himself.     When  he  appeared  there  was 
a  general  pressing  forward  to  see  the 
wounded  hero.     Now  he  stood  be- 
fore them,  erect  and  tall,  his  sword 
at  his  side ;  but  the  arm  that  should 
have  wielded  it  hung  helpless  in  a 
sling,  while  an   earnest   little   maid, 
her  shyness  all   forgotten,  held  fast 
to  the  uninjured  hand. 

"So,  Master  Goodwin,  whom  have 
we  here?"  he  demanded,  as  the  pris- 
oners were  led  forward. 

The  soldier  guarding  them  saluted. 
"  Sir,  we  found  this  fellow,  with  the 
woman  here,  hiding  like  unto  thieves 
i'  the  building  yonder,  and  have 
therefore  arrested  them  as  suspicious 
characters.  The  knave  showed  fight, 
sir.  He  seemeth  to  be  a  desperate 
wretch.  He  speaketh  naught  save 
''  in  his  own  pagan  tongue." 

Captain  Lawrence  studied  the  Frenchman 
closely.  "  So,  thou  fellow,"  he  said  at  last, 
"  hast  not  a  word  to  answer  for  thyself? 
Knowst  thou  aught  of  what  's  said  to  thee? 
Come,  speak  out,  or  it  .nay  go  ill  with  thee." 

The  reply  was  an  outburst  in  the  prisoner's 
own  language,  accompanied  by  earnest  ges- 
tures, plainly  showing  that  he  would  have 
answered   if  he   could,   but    that  he   did    not 


ELIXOK    ARUEX,    ROYALIST. 


1069 


understand  a  word.  In  the  moment  of  brcatli- 
less  waiting  which  followed,  Marie  fell  on  her 
knees  before  the  officer. 

"Ah,  m'sieur,  m'sieur,  mercy!" 

But  he  (Uit  her  .short.  "  Thy  cause  hath 
been  pled  already."  Then  he  turned  to  the 
men-at-arms.  "  Since  here  be  neither  our 
Goliath  nor  he  of  the  scarred  face,  release 
the  prisoners." 

The  soldiers  drew  back,  and  Marie  rose 
slowly  from  her  knees,  seeming  hardly  to 
realize  the  joyful  truth. 

"  These  persons  are  to  go  their  way,  free 
and  unhindered."  The  captain's  voice  was 
clear  and  resolute  as  he  addressed  the  people. 
"  For,  hark  ye  all,  whoe'er  this  man  be,  he  is 
not  one  of  those  we  seek.  If  you  would  know 
what  like  they  are,  one  is  a  six-foot  giant  with 
the  strength  of  two  in  his  arm."  He  glanced 
at  the  slight  figure  of  the  Frenchman.  "The 
other  hath  a  sword-rut  on  his  cheek,  from 
brow  to  lip,  whereof  this  fellow  bears  no  mark. 
Nor  are  these  evil-doers  of  any  sort,  but  a  poor 
serving-man  and  wife,  who,  finding  no  other 
shelter,  rested  here  last  night.  And  this  I 
have  from  one  whose  -word  I  can  trust.  So, 
friends,  since  they  have  done  no  one  any 
harm,  I  doubt  not  you  will  see  them  out  of  the 
town  in  all  peace  and  quiet.  And  there  's  an 
end  on  't — .saving  only  to  beg  your  pardon. 
Mistress  Bradford,  for  this  disturbance  upon 
your  land." 

Various  degrees  of  surprise,  disappointment, 
ve.vation,  or  relief  appeared  on  the  faces  of 
some  thirty  anxious  people,  while  Captain 
Lawrence  turned  again  to  the  prisoners,  and 
said  :  "  Here  is  that  will  help  ye  to  reach  Dover 
ere  nightfall"  ;  and, drawing  something  from  his 
wallet,  he  pressed  a  silver  coin  into  the  woman's 
hand. 

ClI.APTER    VIII. 
ri.\rF.    FOR  KEKLECTION. 

As  Elinor  watched  the  travelers  plod  away 
she  saw  Marie  look  back  at  her  with  a  happy, 
thankful  smile.  Regardless  of  every  one  but 
her  friends,  Elinor  nodded,  answering  the 
smile,  and  then,  with  sudden  daring,  waved 
her  hand.     As  she  did  so  a  pair  of  loving  little 


arms  were  held  out  to  her  in  return,  and  baby 
also  waved  good-by. 

They  were  safe — safe!  Elinor  cared  for 
nothing  else.  The  crowd  soon  left  the  lawn, 
and  there  remained  only  a  few  servants  and 
the  men-at-arpis,  to  whom  Captain  Lawrence 
was  giving  some  last  instructions.  Yet  even 
then  she  wms  far  too  happy  to  think  of  herself, 
until  she  heard,  "  Come  hither,  Elinor,"  and 
found  her  aunt  waiting  for  her  with  a  very 
sober  face. 

"  Wilt  thou  never  learn  to  conduct  thyself 
as  a  maiden  should?"  Aunt  Hester  spoke 
slowly  and  gravely.  "  I  am  amazed  at  thee. 
Thou  shouldst  have  known  better  than  to  go 
running  about  in  that  harebrained  fashion  — 
and  following  after  ("aptain  Lawrence  himself ! 
'T  was  most  un.seemly!  Holding  his  very 
hand,  too!  What  must  he  not  think  of  such 
frowardness!  And  what  madness  set  thee 
waving  at  that  woman?  " 

"  I  'm  sorry,  aunt,"  began  Elinor,  wondering 
if  she  were  to  escape  with  only  a  reproof  for 
bad  manners. 

Before  she  could  say  more,  Aunt  Hester 
turned  away  to  order  one  of  the  serving-men 
to  look  well  about  the  stables,  for  she  had  no 
doubt  that  the  vagabonds  had  stolen  what  they 
could  lay  hands  on. 

"  Oh,  Xell!  Was  that  the  secret?  "  Rachel 
asked  in  a  loud  whi.sper.  She  had  been  watch- 
ing with  questioning  eyes,  and  now  that  her 
mother's  back  w-as  turned,  she  could  be  silent 
no  longer.  "It  is!  I  know  it  is!  You  came 
from  there!  You  did;  "S'on  knew  they  were 
there  all  the  time! " 

Here  Rachel  stopped  and  looked,  and  Bess 
looked,  and  Elinor  looked.  Mistress  Brad- 
ford had  finished  her  orders,  and  caught  the 
last  words.  She  stood  before  the  children  with 
a  face  so  shocked  and  stern  that  both  little 
daughters  hung  their  heads,  and  her  niece 
turned  very  white  as  she  met  her  aunt's  steady 
gaze. 

"  Elinor,  didst  ///()//  know  those  people  were 
there?     Answer  me." 

"  Yes,  Aunt  Hester." 

"Then  why  didst  not  tell  me  at  once?" 

F.linor  did  not  know  what  to  replv,  and,  as 
.•\unt    Hester   waited    in    grim    silence,  looked 


lOJO 


ELINOR    AKDEN,    ROYALIST. 


[Oct. 


helplessly  at  Rachel  and  Bess,  and  finally  at  the 
three  soldiers  beyond.  The  men-at-arms  were 
moving  away  and  the  captain  himself  was 
approaching.  "  Why  didst  thou  not  tell  me?  " 
Aunt  Hester  repeated. 

Captain  Lawrence  reached  the  group  in  time 
to  hear  the  question.  He  saw  the  culprit  turn 
to  him  a  frightened,  imploring  face. 

"  Prithee,  Mistress  Bradford,  blame  her 
not,"  he  hastily  put  in.  "  She  came  to  me  this 
morning  with  the  whole  story.  A  pretty  coil 
we  should  have  had  to  untangle  had  it  not 
been  for  her ;  but  the  little  maid  spoke  out 
right  bravely,  and  I  thank  her  for  it." 

Rather  taken  aback  by  this  sudden  inter- 
ference, Dame  Hester  looked  at  the  young 
officer  as  if  she  considered  him  an  impertinent 
bov  who  had  taken  it  upon  himself  to  instruct 
his  elders. 

'■  You  are  kind.  Captain  Lawrence,"  she  said, 
"  to  look  thus  lightly  upon  such  ill  behavior, 
but  I  cannot  let  it  pass.  Elinor.  7uhcn  didst 
thou  find  those  people  there?  " 

"  I  did  not  find  them  there,  Aunt  Hester." 
The  girl  breathed  quickly,  but  her  voice  was 
firm.  "  I  found  them  in  the  woods  last  night. 
They  were  afraid,  and  knew  not  where  to  go. 
And  so — the  baby.  Aunt  Hester — it  was  for 
the  baby — I  brought  them  to  the  sheep-cote." 

"Thou  didst  hide  them  there?  Elinor! 
Thou  shouldst  have  come  straight  to  me  and 
asked  my  leave.  I  would  have  helped  them 
had  I  seen  fit.  Now,  go  to  thy  room  at  once! 
Thou  shalt  breakfast  on  bread  and  water 
to-day.     Go!" 

In  her  aunt's  opinion  Elinor  crowned  her  bad 
behavior  with  a  show  of  defiance,  for  she 
walked  into  the  house  with  her  head  thrown 
proudly  back  and  a  look  which  seemed  to  say, 
"  I  will  not  ask  pardon."  But  she  bit  her  lip 
only  to  keep  it  from  trembling,  and  bravely 
fought  back  her  angry  tears. 

"  Father  would  have  told  me  to  do  so,"  she 
said  to  herself.  "  He  'd  have  called  me  his 
brave  little  Royalist  —  I  know  he  would  !  " 

Then  in  a  flash  she  remembered  the  buckle. 
She  had  left  it  on  the  baby's  neck,  and  in  the 
excitement  of  the  last  hours-  it  had  been  quite 
forgotten.  It  was  gone — her  precious  keep- 
sake!     Would   she   ever  see  it    again?     Her 


courage  gave  way  and  she  broke  down  and 
sobbed.  And  yet  who  had  her  jewel  now? 
Who,  but  a  baby  princess?  Father  had  meant 
her  always  to  keep  the  buckle  ;  yet  he  would, 
she  felt  sure,  have  been  glad  that  she  should 
give  it  up  in  such  a  cause  as  this.  And,  al- 
though the  tears  would  come,  she  tried  to  be 
happy  in  the  thought  that  she  had  lost  it  in 
the  service  of  her  king. 

For  a  while  it  seemed  as  if  every  one  had 
forgotten  her,  but  presently  she  heard  clatter- 
ing feet  outside  her  door,  and  a  voice  called, 
''Nell,  Nell,  are  you  there?" 

It  was  Rachel — Rachel  who  had  blurted  out 
the  whole  secret  and  brought  down  punishment 
on  her  cousin.     Now  Bess  was  calling,  too. 

"  Nelly,  are  n't  you  there?" 

Not  a  word  from  Elinor.  But  for  those  two 
ve.vatious  little  marplots  there  would  have  been 
no  trouble  at  all.  Thev  might  call  until  thev 
were  tired,  it  made  no  difference  to  her. 

There  was  a  sound  of  whispering.  Then, 
"  Nell,  I  'm  so  sorry  !"  The  voice  was  plain- 
tive.    "  I  did  n't  mean  to  tell!" 

"You  did,  just  the  same!"  burst  out  Elinor. 

"  But  I  could  n't  help  it.  I  forgot,  and  I  "m 
really  sorrv."  And  the  choke  in  Elinor's  voice 
was  answered  by  a  doleful  sniff  outside  the 
door.  Ne.x't  she  heard  the  si-sters  run  down 
the  hall. 

"I  'm  glad  they  're  gone!  I  don't  wish 
anybody!"  she  said  to  herself.  But  as  the 
hours  dragged  slowly  along  she  grew  ready  to 
forgive  them  both  if  only  they  would  return. 

Aunt  Hester  came,  as  Elinor  knew  .she  would, 
and  talked  a  long  time.  Aunt  Hester  found 
her  niece  in  a  rebellious  mood,  positively  re- 
fusing to  own  herself  sorry.  For  Elinor  was 
glad  of  what  she  had  done,  and  only  two  things 
troubled  her,  neither  of  which  she  cared  to 
e.xplain.  She  had  lost  her  beloved  jewel  and 
she  had  deceived. 

Again  and  again  she  argued  the  matter  over 
with  herself.  It  could  not  have  been  a  lie. 
She  had  merelv  told  Captain  Lawrence  that 
the  woman  had  said  she  was  a  servant.  Even 
that  was  true,  for  was  she  not  serving  her 
queen?  Yet  not  for  the  world  would  Elinor 
have  had  him  guess  the  truth.  Yes,  she  had 
meant  to  deceive  him.     .And  he  had  believed 


'904) 


KLINOR    AKDKN,    RON  Al. 1ST. 


IO7I 


her — he  had  said  so  before  every  one,  ami  he 
had  set  the  prisoners  free.  How  good  and 
kind  he  was  I  He  ought  to  have  been  a  Cava- 
lier. With  all  her  heart  she  was  grateful  t" 
him,  and  yet  .she  wished  that  he  would  go 
away,  so  that  she  need  not  face  him  with  that 
secret  on  her  conscience. 

The  long  dismal  day  was  over  at  last,  and 
at  liedtime  the  three  little  girls  "  made  it  up  " 
together  and  kissed  one  another  good-night. 
Xe.\t  morning,  when  Elinor  came  out  from  her 
disgrace,  she  and  her  cousins  were  as  good 
friends  as  ever.  The  past  day's  discipline 
seemed  to  have  transformed  her  into  so 
thoughtful  and  ol)edient  a  maiden  that  Dame 
Hester  began  to  hope  that  her  madcap  niece 
had  at  last  learned  her  lesson,  and  would  yet 
do  credit  to  her  aunt's  training.  Indeed,  poor 
Klinor  had  no  heart  for  play,  with  the  loss  of 
her  jewel  fresh  in  her  memory ;  and  when  she 
saw  the  kind  eyes  and  merry  smile  of  Captain 
Lawrence,  she  could  only  turn  away  with  a 
guilty  color  in  her  cheeks  and  the  secret  weigh- 
ing heavily  on  her  mind. 

Chai'tkk    IX. 

CONFESSION. 

.\  FEW  days  later  the  village  was  again 
aroused — this  time  by  the  news  that  the  baby 
princess,  Henrietta,  had  been  stolen  away  from 
Oatlands  Palace  by  her  governess.  Lady  Dal- 
keith, and  carried  no  one  knew  whither,  but 
some  thought  to  France,  to  her  mother,  the 
e.xiled  queen. 

.■\s  Elinor  was  now  sure  that  the  roval  fugi- 
tive was  safe,  and  that  she  was  no  longer  bound 
to  keep  the  secret,  she  began  to  feel  that  her 
confession  must  come.  More  than  once  she 
was  on  the  point  of  telling  the  whole  story  to 
Captain  Lawrence,  who  had  become  the  friend 
and  playfellow  of  all  the  children  ;  yet  the  fear 
that,  when  he  knew  the  truth,  he  might  be 
angry  with  her,  always  held  her  back.  At  last 
the  captain's  health  was  (juite  restored,  and  he 
was  ready  to  take  the  field  again — and  still 
she  had  not  spoken.  The  day  before  his  de- 
parture she  felt  that  she  could  be  silent  no 
longer,  and  yet  she  was  glad  of  ever)-  task  or 
erraml  that  delaved  the  dreaded  moment. 


.\t  suntlown  she  saw  him  in  the  garden  all 
alone.  Xe.vt  morning  at  daybreak  he  would 
ride  away.  This  was  her  last  chance,  and  she 
must  be  brave. 

"  Captain  Lawrence,  1  think  I  ought  to  tell 
vou  something." 

"  Really?  It  must  be  something  very  im- 
portant." As  he  saw  her  earnest  face,  the  cap- 
tain's eyes  twinkled  so  mischievously  that  Eli- 
nor was  confused  and  could  not  go  on. 

"Well,  what  is  it?  Has  Dick  been  lost  in 
the  hop-field  again,  or  has  Fox  chosen  the 
bantam  cock  for  his  supper?  No?  Then  you 
must  have  been  singing  one  of  those  awful 
Cavalier  songs  again,  wherein  you  cry  ven- 
geance on   the   Roundheads." 

"  I'ray  don't  tease  me,  Ca|)tain  Lawrence! 
I  reallv  ought  to  tell  you.  Those  people,  you 
know  — that  I  hid  that  night.  They — they— I 
only  told  you  the  woman  sij/i/ <,hc  was  a  servant. 
I  'm  sure  that  was  no  untruth.  Well,  the 
baby— you  remember  the  baby?  It  was  not 
really  Pierre — it  was — the  princess!" 

"What!"  The  captain  started,  and  looked 
as  if  he  thought  that  she  had  lost  her  .senses. 
"The  princess!      What  mean  you,  Elinor?" 

"  Yes,  the  Prince.ss — I  know  't  is  true.  I 
found  it  out  that  morning.  At  first,  I  thought 
of  course  thev  were  only  poor  French  folk,  and 
I  hid  them  because  Marie  said  they  were  serv- 
ing a  Royalist  lady,  and  they  feared  the  sol- 
diers. But  ne.vt  day,  when  I  came  to  fetch 
them  their  breakfast,  I  heard  Marie  telling  the 
baby  not  to  cry,  because  she  would  soon  be  a 
princess  again." 

"It  cannot  be!  No,  no,  child!  \'ou  mis- 
took.    That  hunchback  creature!" 

"  She  was  no  hunchback,  but  the  fairest  ladv 
I  ever  saw,  and  the  hump  was  naught  but  a 
bundle  of  rags.  She  was  frightened  when  she 
saw  me  and  would  not  tell  me  who  they  were, 
but  said  I  must  think  of  them  only  as  Marie 
and  Pierre,  and  I  must  keep  the  secret  faith- 
fully. But  now  they  must  be  safe  in  France, 
and  everv  one  knows  thev  're  fled,  so  I  'm  sure 
I  ought  to  tell  you.  And  you  're  not  angrv 
with  me,  are  you?  For  I  'm  a  loyal  maid,  you 
know,  and  if  I  were  a  man,  I  should  be  fight- 
ing against  you  and  for  King.Charles  !" 

It  was  hard  to  tell  the  story,  for  the  captain 


I072 


ELINOR    ARDEN,    ROYALIST. 


[Oct. 


looked  at  her  as  never  before.  She  saw  his 
face  flush  and  liis  brows  contract  as  he  listened, 
while  his  eyes  grew  so  dark  that  she  was  fright- 
ened. "  Vou  are  sure  of  this?"  he  asked,  when 
she  had  finished. 

"Oh,  yes!     Quite  sure!" 

That  he  was  angry  she  saw  plainly  enough. 
Was   it   because   the  poor  little  princess  had 
escaped  from  the  hands  of  her  enemies?      No, 
surely  the  kind-hearted  soldier  could  not  be  so 
cruel  as  to  wish  her  back  again. 
He  must,  then,  be  angry  with  Eli- 
nor herself — but  not,  she  thought, 
for   having   done   her    duty.      It 
could  be  only  because  he,  too,  felt 
that  she  had  deceived  him. 

She  watched  him  pace  back  and 
forth,  never  once  looking  at  her, 
seeming  to  forget  that  she  was 
there.  She  did  not  know  what  to 
do,  and  yet  she  would  not  leave 
him  while  matters  were  in  this 
troubled  state.  So  she  stood, 
helpless  and  unhappy,  carelessly 
plucking  both  flowers  and  leaves 
from  a  rose-bush,  and  scattering 
the  leaves  on  the  path. 

Presently,  as  his  walk  brought 
him  near  her,  the  captain  glanced 
at  her  in  surprise. 

"  Still  there,  Elinor?  "  he  asked. 

She  looked  up  from  under  her 
drooping  lashes,  her  lips  pouting 
in  a  way  that  made  it  seem  as  if 
she  was  cross,  but  which  meant 
only  that  she  was  distressed.  ' 

"What  a  doleful  face  to  wear  over  a  vic- 
tory! "  he  said. 

Victon,-!  Had  the  Royalists  won  a  battle, 
thought  Elinor,  and  was  this  his  way  of  telling 
her? 

"  The  day  was  yours,  was  it  not?  You  helped 
your  princess  on  her  way  to  France,  despite  us 
all.  'T  is  too  late  now  to  bring  her  back 
again."  His  frown  was  gone  and  his  old,  win- 
ning smile  had  returned.  He  was  not  angry 
with  her,  after  all.  Her  face  grew  bright  with 
pleasure. 

"  But  you  are  glad,  too.  Captain  Lawrence, 
are  n't  vou?    You  iiiusi  be  crlad  she  's  safe!  " 


He  thought  a  minute  before  replying. 

"  Ehnor,"  he  said  at  last,  "  had  I  guessed 
the  truth  that  day  my  duty  would  have  been  to 
hold  the  prisoners  in  the  name  of  Parliament. 
They  had  been  a  worthier  prize  than  the  rogues 
we  chased  hither  in  vain.  'T  would  have  won 
me  high  commendation,  too — mayhap  from 
General  Cromwell  himself."  And  there  was 
a  touch  of  bitterness  in  his  tone.  "  Lady  Dal- 
keith  had   marvelous    courage,   trulv,  thus  to 


:-€^ 


WAS    NOT   REALLY    PIERRE  —  IT   WAS  —  THE    PRINCESS!" 

bear  away  the  princess  in  very  defiance  of  the 
order!  She  would  have  paid  dearly  had  she 
failed!  But  ay,  Elinor,  such  captures  are  not 
to  my  liking.  Since  she  had  come  so  far  and 
braved  so  much — with  all  my  heart  I  'm  glad 
she  is  safe  and  free." 

Elinor  clapped  her  hands,  laughing  with  de- 
light ;  and  then,  suddenly  remembering  the 
dignity  of  her  thirteen  years,  she  stepped  for- 
ward demurely  to  bid  the  captain  good-night. 

"  You  are  such  a  wise  little  maid,"  he  said 
as  they  parted,  "  and  know  so  well  how  to  keep 
a  secret — you  would  not  find  it  hard  to  keep 
this  one  still  longer?     Then  best  say  naught 


•9<M-1 


KLINUR    ARDEN,   KOVALIST. 


1073 


about  it  to  any  one.  Good  Mistress  Bradford 
would  be  sorely  grieved  if  she  knew.  'T  would 
but  give  her  needless  ve.\ation.  And  should 
the  storj-  get  abroad,  it  might  bring  heavy 
trouble  upon  us  all.  You  must  wish  me  God- 
speed to-night,  for  I  shall  be  off  to-morrow  at 
dawn.  Will  you  promise  me,  before  I  go,  still 
to  keep  our  secret  faithfully?  " 

"  I  promise,"  Elinor  answered.  "  Yes,  I  '11 
keep  it  always — faithfully." 

"  Farewell,  then,  my  little  Royalist."  And 
he  stooped  and  kissed  her  cheek,  for  the 
wistful  earnestness  of  the  upturned  face  told 
him  what  a  lonely  child  she  was,  and  how  hard 
had  been  the  battle  in  which  she  had  served 
her  king. 

Chapter    X. 

WHEN   THE    KING    CAME   TO    HIS   OWN. 

As  the  years. went  by,  the  last  hopes  of  the 
Royalists  faded,  and  one  dreary  winter's  day 
King  Charles  was  led  forth  from  his  long  im- 
prisonment to  die  upon  the  scaffold.  To  loyal 
Elinor  he  was  now  the  "  martyr  king,"  and  even 
among  the  Puritans  there  were  those  who  felt 
grief  and  indignation  over  that  cruel  death. 
Then  came  the  days  of  the  Commonwealth  of 
England  and  the  end  of  the  Civil  Wars. 

In  the  time  of  peace  that  followed.  Captain 
Lawrence,  now  a  colonel,  again  visited  Brad- 
ford Grange.  There  he  found  his  high-spirited 
little  Royalist  a  gentle,  thoughtful  maiden  of 
nineteen.  They  often  spoke  together  of  that 
visit  of  si.\-  years  before,  and  of  the  secret, 
which  she  still  kept  faithfully.  And  before 
another  year  the  colonel  brought  Elinor  Arden, 
as  Mistress  Elinor  Lawrence,  a  bride,  to  his 
home  at  Cliflfland  Hall. 

Here  she  led  the  quiet,  useful  life  of  a  matron 
in  those  Puritan  days.  Nevertheless,  Elinor 
felt  the  blood  of  the  Cavaliers  stir  once  more 
in  her  veins,  when  at  last  there  w-as  hope  that 
the  wandering  Stuart  prince  might  return  to 
his  father's  throne.  The  death  of  the  great 
Cromwell  was  followed  by  a  time  of  confusion 
and  distre.ss,  and  the  nation  was  soon  ready  to 
welcome  back  its  king.  On  the  twenty-ninth 
of  May,  in  the  year  1660,  Charles  II  entered 
London  in  triumph,  greeted  by  the  shouts  of 
the   joyful  people.     No   one   was  more   truly 

Vol.  XXXT.— 13:;. 


glad  than  Elinor ;  while  Colonel  Lawrence, 
seeing  that  the  cause  for  which  he  had  fought 
no  longer  lived,  now  laid  aside  his  sword  and 
became  a  willing  subject  of  the  new  ruler. 

Late  in  the  fall  of  the  Restoration  year  came 
the  news  that  the  queen  mother,  with  her  daugh- 
ter, the  Princess  Henrietta  Anne,  had  sailed 
from  France  to  visit  her  son.  King  Charles. 
The  royal  girl  made  her  journey  from  Dover  to 
the  palace  of  Whitehall  in  a  far  different  man- 
ner from  that  in  which  .^he  had  left  the  king- 
dom, in  the  stormy  days  of  her  babyhood. 
Now,  loyal  crowds  gathered  to  see  the  lovely 
princess,  and  the  thunder  of  cannon  welcomed 
the  e.viles  home. 

Elinor,  far  away  at  Cliflfland  Hall,  felt  that 
between  her  and  the  king's  young  sister  lay  a 
bond  such  as  none  in  that  exulting  throng  could 
know.  And  when  her  husband,  whose  own 
affairs  called  him  at  that  time  to  London,  pro- 
posed that  she  should  go  with  him,  she  was  as 
full  of  eager  joy  as  if  she  had  been  a  girl  again. 
So  it  hapjtened  that  Colonel  Lawrence,  with 
his  wife,  and  their  little  son  and  daughter,  left 
their  country  home  and  came  to  visit  London. 
There,  more  than  once,  Elinor's  wish  was 
gratified  with  a  glimpse  of  a  fair  young  face  as 
the  royal  carriages  j)assed  by. 

There,  too,  she  found  a  noble  friend  to  wel- 
come her.  Lady  Lyndhurst,  in  whose  castle 
she  had  once  made  her  home,  was  delighted 
to  see  again  her  favorite  of  years  before ;  and 
even  forgave  Colonel  Lawrence  his  having 
fought  on  the  rebel  side  —  for  the  sake  of  the 
maiden  w^hose  heart  he  had  won. 

It  was  Lady  Lyndhurst  herself  who,  early 
one  afternoon,  surprised  the  family  by  an  un- 
expected visit  to  their  lodgings.  The  midday 
meal  was  over  and  little  Elinor  had  climbed 
into  her  mother's  lap,  while  Geoffrey,  standing 
by  his  father's  chair,  was  hearing  about  a  pro- 
posed walk  along  the  river  to  Whitehall  Stairs, 
where  the  king's  barge  lay.  A  knock  sounded 
at  the  door,  and  a  boy  entered,  dressed  in  the 
moss-green  velvet  and  gold  lace  of  the  Lynd- 
hurst livery. 

"  My  Lady  Lyndhurst,  to  \isit  Mistress 
Lawrence,"  he  announced  with  a  lordly  air, 
and  a  bow  worthy  of  a  courtier. 

Elinor  and  her  husband  had  been  invited  to 


I074 


ELINOR    ARDEN,    ROYALIST. 


[Oct. 


see  the  sights  of  London  in  her  ladyship's 
coach,  and  to  dine  in  state  at  her  home,  but 
for  her  to  visit  tlu-m  was  an  unlooked-for  honor. 
The  colonel  hastened  to  assist  their  guest  to 
alight,  and  presently  returned  with  my  lady  on 
his  arm. 

"  I  have  taken  you  b)-  surprise,  have  I  not, 
my  dear?"  she  cried,  embracing  Elinor,  and 
patting  the  rosy  cheeks  of  the  little  brother  and 
sister,  who  were  led  forward  to  kiss  her  hand. 

"  And  surely  you  can  never  guess  what  has 
brought  me  up  all  these  stairs  to  your  lodgings. 
At  such  an  hour,  too!  Thanks,  Elinor,  but  I 
will  eat  nothing  now — we  of  the  court  break- 
fast late.  Marry,  but  I  am  clean  out  of  breath 
from  my  haste!  " 

She  sank  down  on  a  chair,  panting  a  little 
from  her  exertions,  but  her  eyes  sparkled  merrilv 
over  some  secret  of  her  own.  She  was  an  im- 
posing figure,  sitting  there,  with  her  fur-trimmed 
mantle  thrown  back,  displaying  the  sheeny 
folds  of  her  wine-colored  brocade,  and  with  a 
wonderful  head-dress  of  Spanish  lace  covering 
her  silver  liair. 

"  And  now,"  said  Lady  Lyndhurst,  when  she 
had  regained  her  breath,  "  now  for  the  errand 
that  brings  me  hither.  Elinor,  do  you  go 
straightway  and  change  that  sober  dress  for  the 
silken  gown  wherewith  you  graced  my  dinner 
some  davs  ago.  And  make  ready  the  children, 
too,  for  I  am  come  to  carry  you  three  away 
with  me  to  Whitehall.  Can  vou  guess  for  what 
reason  ?  Because  I  am  so  commanded  by  the 
Princess  Henrietta!"  She  paused  to  enjoy 
the  surprise  of  her  listeners.  "  I  promised  you 
a  sight  of  her  Royal  Highness  ere  you  left 
London,  did  I  not?  And  now  I  am  better 
than  my  word.  The  wish  of  your  heart  was 
to  see  your  princess.  Now,  it  seems,  your 
princess  cannot  rest  without  seeing  you.  So 
haste  vou  to  make  ready,  for  we  must  be  there 
within  an  hour.  And  you,  sir,"  she  added,  turn- 
ing to  Colonel  Lawrence,  "had  you  been  the 
Cavalier  I  vow  nature  intended  you  for,  I 
would  have  you  to  the  palace,  too.  And,  but 
for  the  queen  mother,  I  doubt  not  the  princess 
would  have  commanded  your  presence  as  well. 
She  was  eager  enough  to  see  you!  Ay,  I 
took  pains  to  tell  her  Royal  Highness  how 
much  she  owed  her  escape  to  you  also." 


"  Thou  art  willing  that  I  should  go?"  Elinor 
asked  her  husband. 

But  he  only  said:  "To  see  thy  princess? 
'T  was  for  that  I  brought  thee  to  London." 

When  ready  for  the  visit,  even  in  their  simple 
dress,  Elinor  and  her  children  looked  worthy  to 
be  the  guests  of  royalty.  Geoffrey's  bright 
chestnut  hair  fell  in  curling  love-locks  over  his 
broad  collar ;  while  Nell,  in  her  white  frock, 
with  a  quaint  silk  cap  on  her  golden  head,  was 
herself  like  a  little  princess,  so  her  mother 
thought.  And  a  fair  and  stately  lady  was  Mis- 
tress Lawrence,  in  her  gown  of  dove-colored 
silk,  with  soft  lace  on  her  arms  and  breast. 
Lady  Lyndhurst  declared  that  she  bore  herself 
like  a  duchess,  and  that  the  pose  of  her  head 
and  neck  was  clearly  meant  for  the  court.  But 
as  her  husband  gently  wrapped  her  mantle 
about  her  shoulders,  Elinor  gave  him  a  look 
which  said  that  she  was  happiest  as  wife  and 
mother  in  their  quiet  country  home. 

A  few  minutes  more  and  the  Lyndhur.st 
coach  was  whirling  away  to  the  palace  of 
Whitehall. 

"To  think  that  the  princess  herself  should 
send  for  me  !  "  said  Elinor.     "  That  was  through 
your  kindness.  Lady  Lyndhurst,  I  know  with 
out  asking.      But  pray,  my  lady,  tell  me  how 
it  came  about." 

"  Ah  !  that  is  a  secret.  You  must  wait  until 
her  Royal  Highness  tells  it  you.  Have  pa- 
tience, and  \-ou  shall  know  all  b)'  and  by." 

Arrived  at  Whitehall,  they  entered  the  palace 
between  the  ranks  of  guardsmen  in  their  glit- 
tering uniforms  and  ascended  the  great  stair- 
wav.  Elinor  saw,  as  in  a  dream,  the  shimmer 
of  silk,  the  flash  of  jewels,  the  sweeping  bows 
of  the  gallants,  the  curtsies  of  the  ladies,  as 
they  passed  through  the  gallery  to  the  rooms 
of  state.  At  the  door  of  an  inner  apartment 
Lady  Lyndhurst  spoke  to  a  gentleman-in-wait- 
ing, who  disappeared,  and,  returning  a  moment 
later,  ushered  them  into  a  private  drawing- 
room.  Elinor  hardly  noticed  the  splendor  all 
about  her,  the  rich  hangings,  the  frescos  on 
walls  and  ceiling,  the  glitter  of  gold  and  crystal, 
for,  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room,  with  maids 
of  honor  gathered  about  her  chair,  the  Princess 
Henrietta  waited  to  receive  her. 

Elinor  curtsied  low,  and  then  Ladv  Lvnd- 


1904.1 


ELINOR    ARDKN,    ROVAI.IST. 


1075 


hurst  led  her  forward,  with  the  words,  "  Vour 
Roval  Highness,  here  at  last  is  Elinor  Ardeii." 
"  And  glad  I  am  to  welcome  her,"  cried  a 
silvery,  girlish  voice,  as,  curtsying  again,  Eli- 
nor kissed  the  hand  held  out  to  her.  "  So 
you,  Madam  Lawrence,  are  the  one  who.  as  a 


;  -.^^ 


■■AND    NOW    H.iK     lilK    EKKAM>    TJIAT    ItRINGS    MF.    MITHEK,      SAIlJ    I.ADV    I.VNDHL'KSI 


little  maid,  sheltered  me  that  night?  I  have  so 
long  wished  to  find  you!  .\nd  Lady  Lynd- 
luirst  tells  me  yni/  would  fain  see  your  baby 
princess,  too." 

"  Your  Royal  Highness  is  most  gracious  to 
grant  me  my  dearest  wi.sh,"  replied  Elinor. 

"  And  these  are   your  children !     The  dear 


millions .'  Bring  them  here  at  once,"  the  prin- 
ce.ss  said,  with  her  sweet  French  accent,  as  she 
looked  at  the  little  pair,  standing  shyly  hand 
in  hand. 

Nell,  tiny  maiden  that  she  was,  clung  to  her 
mother  as  she  dropped  a  bobbing  curtsy.  But 
Geoffrey  proved  him- 
self a  true  cavalier, 
bowing  so  low  that 
his  curls  touched  the 
hem  of  the  princess's 
pearl-broidered  robe, 
after  which  he  reso- 
lutely took  his  stand 
beside  her  chair,  and 
remained  there,  his 
gaze  never  once  wan- 
dering from  her  face. 
No  wonder  Geoffrey 
had  lost  his  heart!  For 
at  sixteen  the  Princess 
Henrietta  Anne  was  al- 
ready the  boast  of  the 
French  and  the  Eng- 
lish court.  There  was 
something  fairy-like  in 
her  beauty  and  grace, 
as  she  sat  there  in  her 
creamy  satin  gown, 
with  gems  sparkling 
on  her  white  arms  and 
slender  throat,  and  in 
her  hair.  And  her 
cheek  was  tinged  with 
delicate  rose,  and  her 
dark  eyes  shone  with 
a  laughing  light,  for 
she  was  in  the  early 
springtime  of  happi 
ncss  and  love. 

"  I  have  so  often 
heard  the  story,"  the 
princess  said,  "  how 
my  own  dear  faithful  Lady  Dalkeith  bore  me 
away  in  peasant  guise ;  and  how  a  brave  little 
maiden,  named  Elinor  Arden,  helped  me  on  my 
way.  I  always  w^ondere.d  how  jt  fared  with 
her,  and  to-day  Lady  Lyndhurst  comes  and 
tells  me  all.  So  now  I  must  have  the  tale  again 
from  you."    She  signed  to  an  attendant.    "Bring 


10/6 


ELIXOR    ARDEN,    ROYALIST. 


seats  for  Lady  Lyndhurst  and   Madam  Law- 
rence." 

As  she  spoke,  she  put  her  arm  around  Geof- 
frey, and  drew  the  shy  httle  sister  to  her  side 
as  well.    Her  manner  was  so  full  of  sweet  gra- 


"  SHE  DREW  FORTH  A  CHAIN  OF  GLEAMING  FEARLS- 


ciousness  that   Elinor  lost   all   embarrassment 
at  being  seated  in  the  presence  of  royalty. 

She   told    the   story  of   how  she  had    found 
the    wanderers,     how    she   had    hidden    them 


in  the  old  chapel,  and  how,  in  the  morning, 
their  secret  had  been  revealed  to  her.  And 
now  the  princess  laughed  merrily  as  she  lis- 
tened, and  now  the  tears  rose  in  her  eyes. 
The  account  of  the  capture  and  release  filled 
herwith  girlish  delight. 
"  And  the  young 
captain  who  set  us 
free — he  is  now  your 
husband?  "  she  asked. 
''Ah!  you  must  tell 
him  that  those  poor 
wayfarers  have  been 
ever  grateful  for  his 
charity.  .\nd  tell  him" 
— a  roguish  smile  dim- 
pled the  corners  of 
her  mouth  —  "that  the 
king  knows,  too,  how 
passing  well  he  there- 
by served  the  crown." 
When  the  story  was 
ended,  she  said : 
"  There  is  one  thing 
you  have  quite  for- 
got. But  this  should 
rouse  your  memory." 
Taking  from  one  of 
her  maidens  a  beauti- 
ful silver  box,  she  drew 
from  it  a  golden  buckle 
studded  with  gems  and 
tied  with  a  faded  crim- 
son ribbon. 

"  .\nd  then,"  she 
added,  when  Elinor, 
kneeling,  had  received 
her  childhood's  trea- 
sure, "  as,  long  ago, 
you  gave  your  pre- 
cious jewel  to  save  a 
little  princess,  so  now 
that  grateful  princess 
returns  it  to  you  and 
gives    you   this,   as   a    token   of  her  love." 

This  time  she  drew  forth  a  chain  of  gleam- 
ing pearls,  and  with  her  own  hands  clasped  it 
about  Elinor's  throat. 


THE  END. 


I 

I 


AX    AL'TUMX    \).\\    XV   TIIF.    ZOO. 


LEAVKS    FROM    AN    ARTIST'S   SKETCH-BOOK. 


"    OSTRICHES     T 


J-,    _^ 


UTTI£  JAnxNTSE  DEKR 

I,.      ■     "'    _  —T™^— 


<■% 


•^S'iSJjI^^Llt* 


f"    /  lusT  how  it  becran 

''  /  Pulton    never    knew. 

He  had  heard  whis- 
pers of  the  class  "  rush ''  for  several  days,  but 
nobody  in  his  crowd  seemed  to  know  much 
about  it.  Belfour,  who  came  from  his  town, 
told  him  that  it  was  the  custom  for  the  Sopho- 
mores to  wait  until  the  Freshmen  were  coming 
from  gymnasium  practice,  and  then  meet  them 
on  the  lower  campus,  h  cane  seemed  to  be 
the  bone  of  contention. 

Elton  had  been  at  college  just  one  week.  On 
Tuesdays  and  Thursdays,  at  four,  every  man  in 
the  Freshman  class  was  required  to  report  at  the 
gymnasium  for  practice.  On  the  second  Tues- 
day the  Sophomores  met  them  at  the  door. 

Elton  was  among  the  last  to  leave  the  main 
floor  of  the  gymnasium.  Half-way  down  the 
steps  he  heard  a  sudden,  sharply  punctuated  roar 
outside:  .u   Rah!     Rah: 

U   Rah!     Ree! 
Varsity!     Varsity! 
Nineteen  three !  " 

Elton's  heart  began  to  beat  with  excitement. 
Those    were  the   Sophomores.     And    then   he 
heard  a  defiant  yell  —  weak  at  first,  but  gaining 
strength  as  lusty  voices  swung  into  the  refrain: 
'■U   Rah!     Rah! 
U  Rah!     Roar! 
Varsity  !     Varsity ! 
Nineteen  four  !  " 

Those  were  the  Freshmen  —  that  was  his 
class  !  His  eyes  brightened.  He  was  beginning 
to  understand  class  spirit  now  ! 

Down  at  the  door  there  was  a  little  block- 


r 


^ 


By  Leslie  W.  Quirk 


ade.  Impatient  at  the  delay,  somebody  at  the 
top  of  the  stairs  gave  a  mighty  push,  and  the 
whole  crowd  swept  down  to  the  bottom  —  tum- 
bling and  sliding  and  eager,  but  not  laughing. 
From  outside  came  the  Sophomore  yell,  drown- 
ing all  else. 

At  last  Elton  came  to  the  door,  just  when 
the  tension  was  almost  too  great.  As  far  as 
he  could  see  across  the  lower  campus  were 
swarming  groups  of  young  men,  all  elbowing 
and  closing  in  on  a  .single  mass  of  fellows,  that 
swayed  first  one  way  and  then  the  other. 

Elton  ran  forward.  A  student  in  a  red  sweater 
blocked  his  wav. 

"  Nineteen  four?  "  he  asked  threateningly. 

Elton  threw  back  his  head.  "  Yes,  sir,  I 
am,"  he  said.  It  was  the  first  time  since  he  ha4 
come  to  the  university  that  he  had  not  re- 
peated it  meekly. 

The  fellow  nodded.  "So  am  I,"  he  said, 
"  and  lots  of  these  fellows  around  here.  But  we 
are  getting  pushed  and  jostled  and  walked  on, 
just  because  we  are  not  organized.  You  see, 
the  Sophs  know  one  another;  we  don't.  Here, 
let  's  bunch  ourselves." 

He  threw  back  his  chest,  and  called  out  in 
a  voice  that  rose  above  the  din : 

"  Nineteen  four  this  way  !  " 

He  turned  to  Elton.  "  I  know  you,"  he 
said.  "  Saw  you  doing  stunts  in  the  gym  ;  and 
I  saw  your  muscles,  too."    He  .smiled  grimly. 

Elton  looked  up.  "  Oh,  I  say — "  he  began. 
Then  his  curiosity  got  the  better  of  him.  "M'hat 
does  it  all  mean  ?"  he  asked,  pointing  his  thumb 
at  the  struggling  mass  of  humanity. 


1078 


THE    CLASS    RUSH. 


1079 


"  It 's  a  class  rush,"  explained  the  other.  "At 
least,  that 's  what  they  call  it.  It 's  really  a  cane 
rush,  a  bit  disorganized  here  in  the  West ;  and 
the  Sophomores  use  it  as  an  opportunity  to 
walk  over  the  Freshmen  and  throw  them  into 
the  lake.  It  's  the  nearest  thing  to  hazing 
that  's  allowed." 

By  this  time  there  were  thirty  or  forty  stu- 
dents, red  of  cheek  and  short  of  hreath,  gathered 
around  the  two. 

The  man  in  the  red  sweater  held  up  his  hand. 

"  Fellows,"  he  said,  "  this  is  Elton,  1904. 
He  's  going  to  lead  us." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  then  clear 
and  sharp  came  the  yell : 

"  U   Rah !      Rah ! 
U  Rah!     Roar! 
Varsity!     Varsity! 
Nineteen  four !  " 

More  Freshmen  came,  and  still  more,  till  tlie 
crowd  was  a  small  army.  Then  PHton  began 
to  un<lerstand.  The  longing  to  do  something 
for  his  class  grew  strong  ujjon  hini.  The  fel- 
lows hoisted  him  high  upon  their  slioulders.  He 
turned  to  the  crowtl. 

••All  right,  fellows,"  he  said.  '•  We  want  tliat 
cane  :   let  's  get  it  1  " 

They  were  still  tugging  at  it  when  tlie  crowd 
of  Freslimen  came,  in  a  solid  mass,  like  a  bullet. 
Somebody  weakened  and  let  go ;  somebody 
else's  hold  slipped.  Everywhere  were  Fresh- 
men—  crawling  under  the  upper-classmen, 
scrambling  over  them,  shoving  between  them. 

Elton,  as  leader,  hit  the  crowd  first.  Back 
of  him  were  two  hundred  sturdy  fellows,  pent 
up  with  excitement.  He  went  through  and 
over  a  score  of  astonished  young  men.  Almost 
before  he  realized  it,  he  had  his  hand  on  the 
precious  cane.  Then  more  Freshmen  came, 
and  pulled  the  Sophomores  off  before  they  un- 
derstood the  sudden  energy.  And  all  at  once, 
panting  and  with  clothes  torn,  KIton  found  him- 
self in  possession  of  the  cane. 

Some  instinct  told  him  to  run.  In  an  instant 
there  were  five  hundred  men  after  him. 

Elton  could  run  with  the  best  of  them,  but 
there  was  no  hope  of  getting  away  with  a 
crowd  closing  in  from  three  sides  and  the  lake 
in  front. 

Back  of  the  gvmnasium  lav   the  boat-house. 


Elton  made  .straight  for  this  building,  circled 
the  walk  to  the  front,  and  took  a  quick  glance 
at  the  boats  along  the  piers.  All  were  chained 
securely  except  one.  In  this  a  man  with  a 
heavy  sweater  was  just  leaving  the  pier. 

There  was  no  time  for  delay,  no  time  for 
apologies.  Straight  for  the  boat  Elton  ran; 
when  he  was  near  it  he  jumped. 

The  man  was  startled  —  there  was  no  question 
as  to  that.  For  twenty  minutes  he  had  been 
loafing  idly  about  the  pier,  alternately  arrang- 
ing the  cushions  in  his  boat  and  smoking  a  bull- 
dog pipe,  as  he  waited  impatiently  for  a  friend. 
And  now  — 

"  Well,"  he  gasped,  taking  his  pipe  from  his 
mouth,  "  who  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  'm  Elton — 1 904,  you  know.  1  "ve  got  the 
cane.      I  —  " 

"  Oh  !  "  The  man  moved  his  big  shoulders  in 
silent  laughter.  "  Then  the  class  rush  is  on, 
and  you  've  got  away  with  the  cane." 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Elton,  anxiously,  as  he  fitted 
the  oars  into  the  locks ;  "  they  're  coming." 

They  were  —  not  one  or  a  dozen,  but  scores 
and  scores  of  them  —  all  eager  and  determined. 
.V  whole  row  of  boats  was  launched  as  quickly 
as  they  could  be  unlocked  from  the  pier.  Groups 
of  stalwart  fellows  dropped  into  the  seats,  and 
a  hundred  muscular  arms  dipped  the  oars  into 
the  w\ater. 

Meanwhile  the  man  in  Elton's  boat  had 
shipped  his  oars.  As  he  saw  the  pursuit,  how- 
ever, his  face  brightened,  and  he  .slipped  tlie 
blades  into  the  water.  Elton  noticed  that  there 
was  no  splash,  hardly  a  ripple. 

"  You  .'II  help  me  get  away  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  'm  a  Junior,  old  man  ;  I  'II  helj)  a  Fresh- 
man any  day.    Now  row  for  all  that  's  in  you." 

\Vith  his  back  to  the  man,  Elton  dipped  his 
oars  and  leaned  forward.  He  ])u!led  steadily, 
with  all  the  force  of  his  muscles.  He  knew  tlie 
man  behind  him  had  caught  the  stroke  exactly. 
The  boat  leajjed  forward  in  a  mad  rush  that  cut 
the  water  sharply  before  it. 

Elton  could  see  the  pursuers  coming.  There 
were  some  husky  pairs  and  fours  among  them, 
and  Elton  wondered  if  it  would  be  possible  to 
get  away.  He  was  cooler  now,  and  began  to 
wonder  if  it  were  all  worth  while. 

Then,  suddenly,  back  on   the  shore,  a  hun- 


io8o 


THE    CLASS    RUSH. 


[Oct. 


dred  Freshmen  sent  up  the  class  yell.  It 
caught  Elton  like  a  powerful  stimulant.  His 
heart  throbbed;  his  eyes  brightened;  his  mus- 
cles felt  fresh  and  strong.  He  was  doing  it  for 
the  class.-     It  "K'hs  worth  while. 

Themanbehindhimneverspoke.    He  was  sim- 
ply rowing  with  all  the  power  that  was  in  him. 


voice  kept  saying,  "  Steady !  Steady,  old  man  ! 
Steady !  "  It  quieted  him  and  made  him  do 
his  best.  He  knew  the  man  outclassed  him, 
though  he  pulled  with  the  whole  strength  of  his 
young  body. 

At  best  it  was  an  uneven  race.     Two  men  in 
a  rowboat  could  not  outrun   four  men  in  a  ra- 


"  STRAIGHT    FOR   THE    BOAT   ELTON    RAN;    WHEN    HE    WAS    NEAR    IT    HE   JUMPED.' 


Sometimes  when  Elton  was  a  little  slow  in 
catching  the  stroke  he  could  feel  the  boat  shoot 
forward  with  a  tremendous  jump.  His  admira- 
tion for  the  man  grew  as  he  watched  them  draw 
away  from  the  pursuers. 

His  oar  slipped  at  last,  and  sent  a  shower  of 
water  back  on  the  man.  The  fellow  only 
grunted  and  said,  "  Steady  !  Steady  !  Steady, 
old  man  !  We  've  just  begun  to  fight  now.  They 
have  launched  the  four-oar  shell. 

Elton  had  never  seen  a  shell,  but  his  eye 
caught  sight  of  the  boat  back  at  tiie  landing. 
It  was  slim  and  frail  and  fast.  He  bent  to  his 
work   with    renewed   energy.     Back  of  him    a 


cing-shell.  Elton  did  not  realize  this,  however, 
and  strained  and  tugged  at  the  oars  till  the 
perspiration  stood  out  on  his  forehead  in  great 
drops,  and  trickled  down  the   side  of  his  nose. 

He  began  to  pant.  He  was  not  in  training, 
and  the  pace  was  beginning  to  tell.  He  won- 
dered who  the  other  chap  was,  and  whether  he 
had  to  learn  to  row  that  way,  or  whether  he 
had  always  been  able  to  do  it.  He  felt  an  insane 
desire  to  stop  rowing  the  boat  and  ask  the  man. 

The  boat-house  and  gymnasium  began  to 
grow  smaller  and  smaller  as  they  receded  in 
the  distance.  Elton  noticed  that  the  water  was 
bluer  the  farther  out  they  went.     There  were 


1904. 


THE    CLASS    RUSH. 


I081 


waves  out  here,  however,  that  caught  the  boat 
occasionally,  and  tipped  it  so  mucii  he  had  to 
shoot  his  oar  deeper  down.     It  irritated  him. 

Then  the  recollection  of  the  mad,  confused 
rush  on  the  campus  came  back  to  him.  He 
thought  of  the  improvised  class  yell,  and  it  got 
to  ringing  in  his  ears.  He  kept  time  «'ith  the 
oars,  and  inilled  and  pulled,  and  whispered  and 
whispered  the  yell  over  to  himself.  And  all 
the  time  the  man  back  of  him  was  saying, 
"  Steady  !  Steady,  now !  You  'II  get  it ;  don't 
dig  so  deep !     Steady !     Steady,  old  man  !  " 

But  the  race  was  too  unequal.  Bit  by  bit 
the  lighter,  faster  boat  crept  upon  them.  Elton 
began  to  wonder  if  he  would  be  hazed,  and  if 
the  torture  would  be  great.  It  was  worth 
while,  anyhow ;  anything  was  worth  while  for  a 
crowd  of  fellows  like  his  class. 

Then  the  boat  grated  on  the  lake  bottom, 
and  stopped  abruptly. 

Straight  across  the  lake.  Picnic  Point  juts 
out,  a  long,  narrow  peninsula.  They  had  been 
rowing  for  tliis  point,  and  it  was  here  that  the 
shell  overtook  them.  Elton  wondered  what 
the  upper-classmen  would  do  to  him.  He  was 
not  afraid;  he  was  only  sorry  that  his  class 
could  not  win  the  coveted  cane. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Sophomores  did 
nothing.  After  several  boat-loads  of  them  had 
come,  they  bundled  him  into  a  rowboat,  leav- 
ing his  companion  to  return  at  his  leisure. 

Perhaps  a  hundred  yards  from  the  boat- 
house  shore,  the  boat  stopi)ed.  Back  from  the 
water's  edge,  twenty  deep,  was  a  vast  crowd. 

"  Now,  Elton,"  came  the  command,  '•  stand 
up  and  give  your  class  yell." 

Elton  stood  on  a  seat  and  gave  it,  not  hurry- 
ing it,  not  mumbling  it,  but  yelling  it  out  with 
a  pride  that  was  in  every  note.  He  was  glad 
to  give  the  yell. 

He  sat  down  again.  On  the  shore  five  hun- 
dred voices  took  up  the  yell  and  repeated  it. 
KIton  began  to  wonder  what  it  all  meant. 

"  Now  give  our  yell,"  cried  the  1903  leader. 

For  a  moment  Elton's  head  swam.  Two  hours 
before  he  would  have  done  what  they  demanded. 
Now,  the  tiling  the  men  call  "  class  spirit  "  was 
strong  within  him.     He  sat  perfectly  still. 


Somebody  prodded  him  from  behind.  The 
four  fellows  in  his  boat  lifted  him  to  his  feet. 
He  stood  there  helpless,  looking  over  the 
crowd  of  boats  farther  out  on  the  lake.  Sud- 
denly his  glance  fell  upon  the  man  who  had 
rowed  with  him.  The  fellow  was  leaning  for- 
ward with  a  queer,  half-doubting  look  on  his 
face. 

Without  a  woril,  Elton  shook  his  captors  free, 
raised  one  arm,  and  dived  from  the  boat  into 
the  lake. 

There  was  a  wild  clamor  ir.  tlie  boat.  Oars 
were  slipped  into  the  locks,  and  Sophomores 
jumped  to  the  seats. 

Elton  had  a  start,  however,  and  the  confu- 
sion in  the  boat  proved  too  big  a  handicap. 
Willing  hands  helped  him  ashore,  and  he 
climbed  out  of  the  water,  dripping  but  happy. 

"  Now,  fellows,"  he  said,  "  the  class  yell." 

.\nd  they  gave  it  defiantly,  proudly,  thunder- 
ingly,  as  it  had  never  been  given  before  — 
these  boys  who  an  hour  earlier  had  not  known 
the  meaning  of  class  spirit. 

On  the  way  home  Elton  rubbed  a  little  mud 
off  one  cheek,  reflectively. 

"  I  wish,"  he  said,  "  that  I  could  have  kept 
tlie  cane.  But  I  suppose  it  's  customary  for 
the  Sophomores  to  get  it." 

"  Of  course,"  said  a  hearty  voice  behind 
him. 

Elton  looked  uj)  and  saw  the  man  who 
had  rowed  with  him  grinning  pleasantly. 

"  You  don't  know  me,"  he  said,  "  but  I  'm 
Kenton,  captain  of  the  varsity  crew.  I  say, 
Elton,  you  are  a  stayer  all  right,  and  I  want 
you  to  do  something  in  athletics  while  you  are 
here.  The  old  college  needs  men  like  you. 
Don't  forget."  And  he  turned  down  a  side 
street. 

"  I  think,"  said  Elton  to  a  young  fellow  be- 
side him,  who  had  evidently  been  in  the  lake 
also,  "  that  I  'm  going  to  like  this  university. 
And  honest,  now,  have  n't  we  the  best  class 
that  ever  got  together?  Let  's  give  the  yell 
again." 

And  they  gave  it,  not  only  once,  but  they 
gave  it  twice  —  a  dozen  times.  One  and  all, 
they  had  at  last  caught  the  class  spirit. 


Vol..  xxxi.— 136. 


He  was  small  and  plump,  of  a  red-brown 
color,  with  a  beautiful  bushy  tail  curling  over 
his  back.  Have  you  guessed  that  he  was  a 
squirrel  ?  Then  look  up  his  name  in  the  dic- 
tionary and  you  will  find  out  why  he  was  called 
Chickaree. 

He  lived  in  the  trees  behind  the  Brown  House, 
waiting  for  the  butternuts  to  get  ripe.  A  big 
butternut-tree  grew  close  by  the  fence.  Mr. 
Squirrel's  bright  eyes  had  spied  the  nuts  early 
in  the  summer,  and  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
have  them — every  one.  So,  as  soon  as  the  ripe 
nuts  began  to  fall  with  a  thump  to  the  ground, 
Chickaree  was  to  be  seen — as  busy  as  a  bee  all 
day  long,  storing  up  food  for  next  winter. 

The  two  ladies  who  lived  in  the  Brown  House 
used  to  watch  him  from  the  windows,  and  were 
never  tired  of  saying  how  cunning  he  was,  and 
how  glad  they  were  to  have  him  get  the  butter- 
nuts. He  must  havea  snug  little  nestin  some  tree 
near  by  —  he  would  carry  off  a  nut  and  be  back 
again  so  quickly.  But,  though  they  watched 
carefully,  they  never  could  discover  where  the 
nest  was,  and  by  and  by  they  gave  up  watching 
and  forgot  all  about  him. 

One  morning,  late  in  October,  Miss  Anne 
came  to  breakfast  rather  late  and  cross,  saying 
to  her  sister,  "  Sally,  I  believe  this  house  is  full 
of  rats!  There  was  such  a  racket  last  night  I 
hardly  slept  a  wink  !  " 

Miss  Sally  had  slept  soundly,  and  she  laughed 
at  the  idea.  Rats?  There  had  never  been  rats 
in  that  house.     It  was  just  "Anne's  nonsense." 

Miss  Anne  still  insisted,  and  was  awakened 
almost  every  night  by  the  noise.    "  The  rats  in 


the  barn  have  moved  into  the  house  for  the 
winter,"  she  said.  So  the  rat-trap  was  brought 
from  the  bam,  baited  with  cheese,  and  placed 
close  to  a  hole  in  the  underpinning,  which 
looked  as  if  it  might  be  a  rat-hole.  There  it 
stayed  till  the  trap  grew  rusty  and  the  cheese 
moldy,  but  no  rat  was  caught. 

One  day  Miss  Sally  brought  home  a  bag  of 
peanut  candy  —  "peanut  brittle,"  she  called  it; 
and  to  keep  it  cool  overnight  she  put  it  in  the 
workshop,  where  were  kept  the  hammers  and 
nails,  the  wood-box,  and  the  garden  tools. 
This  shop  opened  into  Miss  Anne's  studio,  and 
had  an  outside  door  near  the  butternut-tree. 

The  candy  was  forgotten  until  the  next  after- 
noon, when  Miss  Anne  went  to  get  a  piece. 
All  that  she  found  was  a  heap  of  torn  and  sticky 
paper.    Every  scrap  of  peanut  brittle  vifas  gone  ! 

"  Those  rats !  "  she  declared.  "  But  how  did 
they  get  in  here  ?  " 

The  "  how  "  was  soon  explained.  Near  the 
outside  door  they  found  a  hole  in  the  floor. 

Miss  Sally  was  indignant,  and,  putting  a  thick 
board  over  the  hole,  pounded  in  enough  wire 
nails  to  keep  out  a  regiment  of  rats. 

As  they  stood  in  the  open  door  a  butternut 
dropped  at  their  feet,  and  Miss  Sally,  in  a  flash, 
exclaimed,  "Anne,  do  you  think  it  could  be 
that  squirrel  ?  —  the  nuts  in  the  candy,  you 
know  ?  " 

But  Miss  Anne  thought  not.  "The  noises 
in  the  attic  —  that  could  not  be  a  squirrel. 
There  are  wire  screens  in  the  windows  —  he 
could  not  possibly  get  in." 

Couldn't  he?    That  same  afternoon,  as  Miss 


CHICKAREE. 


1083 


Anne  crossed  the  yard,  she  saw  the  squirrel,  with 
a  nut  in  his  mouth,  spring  from  the  fence  to  the 
low  shed  roof,  then  to  the  house  roof,  and  sud- 
denly vanish  under  the  eaves.  And,  looking 
with  all  her  eyes,  she  spied  a  small  round  hole. 

The  mystery  was  explained :  this  was  the 
candy  thief  and  the  "  rat "  that  danced  jigs  in 
the  garret  night  after  night! 

John  said  he  would  bring  his  gun  and  shoot 
the  rascal  as  soon  as  he  popped  out  of  the  hole. 

But  the  ladies  would  not  hear  of  it.  Shoot 
little  Bright-eyes  ?  No,  indeed!  He  had  worked 
so  hard,  laying  up  his  winter  store.  As  long 
as  he  was  n't  "  rats  "  Miss  Anne  was  sure  she 
would  not  mind  the  noise,  and,  besides,  did  n't 
s(|uirrels  sleep  all  winter  ? 

That  evening    she  read    up  sciuirrels  in    the 


*'  HE   UlU   SLEEi'  A   ciKEAT   DEAL." 


encyclopedia,  and  finding  the  name  chickaree, 
she  declared,  "  That  shall  be  our  squirrel's  name, 
and  he  shall  stay  as  long  as  he  cares  to." 

So  Chickaree  stayed;  and  a  fine  winter  he 
passed.  He  did  sleep  a  great  deal,  but  woke 
up  to  nibble  his  nuts  and  explore  the  garret. 
Once  in  a  while,  just  for  fun,  he  would  venture 
out  of  doors,  and  the  ladies  saw  him  scudding 
over  the  snow-crust.  But  the  greater  part  of 
the  time  he  spent  curled  up  in  his  nest.  What 
a  nest  it  was,  to  be  sure —  the  very  middle  of  a 


feather-bed !  Miss  Sally  had  tied  that  bed 
carefully  in  a  sheet  and  hung  it  from  a  peg  in 
the  garret ;  but  Chickaree  had  climbed  up, 
peeped  into  the  folds,  and  made  up  his  mind 
at  once  that  that  was  the  bed  for  him. 

When  spring  came  the  feather-bed  began  to 
lose  its  charm.  Chickaree  became  very  wide- 
awake, spending  his  time  in  racing  about  the 
attic,  prying  into  bo.xes  and  staring  at  him- 
self in  an  old  mirror.  He  wondered  who  that 
bushy-tailed  fellow  could  be  —  and  tried  to 
scratch  him  out. 

Then  he  began  to  gnaw  the  wooden  boxes, 
the  beams  —  everything;  and  the  more  he 
gnawed  the  better  fun  it  was.  Miss  Anne's 
nerves  were  so  worn  out  by  the  grinding  noise 
he  made  that  she  gave  up  calling  him  "that 

cunning  little  fol- 
low," and  now  he 
was  always  "  that 
tormenting  squir- 
rel." A  dozen  times 
a  day  she  would 
have  to  drop  her 
paint-brush,  pound 
on  the  studio  wall, 
and  cry,  "  Hush  ! 
hush!" 

At  first  Chicka- 
ree would  be  fright- 
ened into  silence 
by  those  knocks, 
but  he  soon  learned 
that  it  was  "  bark  " 
and  not  '•  bite," 
and  he  would  stop 
to  grin,  and  then 
calmly  begin  to 
gnaw  again. 
"Better  shoot  him; 
gnawing    the   beams 


The  neighbors  said : 
he  '11  ruin  your  house, 
and  the  roof."  But  the  ladies  said  "No"  again, 
and  hoped  when  summer  came  he  would  for- 
sake the  garret.  But  he  did  not.  It  was  a 
rainy  summer,  and  Chickaree  liked  his  dry 
quarters  —  so  he  stayed  ;  and  still  he  danced, 
and  gnawed,  and  drove  Miss  Anne  distracted. 

In  July  she  had  a  bright  idea,  and  got  a 
friend  who  had  been  a  boy  not  many  years 
before  to  make  her  a  box-trap,  such  as  he  used 


I0S4 


CHICKAREE. 


to  set  for  rabbits  in  the  woods.  "And  when 
we  catch  Chickaree,"  Miss  Anne  said,  "  we  '11 
carry  him  off  to  the  woods  and  set  him  free." 

The  trap  was  baited  with  apple  and  placed 
on  the  shed  roof;  and  there  it  stayed  —  empty. 
Chickaree  never  even  saw  it.  He  had  forgot- 
ten the  butternut-tree,  and  now  traveled  an- 
other road  —  over  ihefro?!i  roof  into  the  maples, 
where  he  could  tease  the  birds  and  hunt  for 
their  eggs. 

One  day  Miss  Anne  had  a  headache.  As 
she  lay  on  her  bed  all  the  morning  it  seemed 
to  her  the  squirrel  had  never  before  made  such 
a  racket  overhead.  After  dinner  she  called 
Miss  Sally.  "  Do  try  the  trap  in  the  attic ; 
that  squirrel  is  spending  the  whole  day  there !" 

So  the  trap,  with  a  fresh  bait  of  apple,  was 
put  in  the  middle  of  the  attic  floor,  and  Miss 
Sally  sat  down  to  read  her  sister  to  sleep.  Sud- 
denly overhead  came  a  snap!  and  the  sisters 
looked  at  each  other.  Was  it  the  trap  ?  Had 
the  squirrel  been  caught  ? 

Up  ran  Miss  Sally.  Well,  if  he  was  n't  caught, 
what  had  made  the  top  of  the  trap  fall  flat,  and 


what  was  it  inside  that  sounded  like  a  small 
cyclone  rushing  to  and  fro  ? 

Poor  Chickaree  !  how  did  he  feel  when  that 
sudden  clap  shut  him  into  a  black  box,  with  'no 
way  of  escape  ? 

As  he  crouched  in  terror  he  heard  a  voice 
crying,  "  Oh,  Anne,  we  've  got  him !  What 
shall  we  do  with  him  ?  "  Another  voice  pro- 
nounced his  doom:  "  We  must  take  him  to  the 
mountain.    Tell  John  to  harness  right  away." 

The  momi/ain  .'  Oh,  what  was  the  mountain  ? 
poor  Chickaree  wondered.  But  he  kept  very 
still  while  he  felt  the  trap  lifted  and  presently 
jolting  along  a  stony  road. 

After  a  long  time  a  voice  called  out "  Whoa !  " 
and  the  trap  was  lifted  again.  Miss  Anne's 
voice  exclaimed:  "This  is  a  lovely  place!  Let 
him  out  on  the  stone  wall." 

Another  minute,  and  up  went  the  top  of  the 
trap.  Chickaree  saw  blue  sky,  sunshine,  tree- 
tops.  Free  !  In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it 
he  was  away.  Just  a  streak  of  red  fur  and 
waving  tail,  and  that  was  the  last  the  ladies  of 
the  Brown  House  ever  saw  of  little  Chickaree. 


Q-'-v 


[Oiib 


By  Marg.\ret  Johnson. 


This  dear  little  man  from  Che-fu, 

Who  was  known  by  the  name  of  Thing  Ku, 

Had  never  a  toy 

Such  as  children  enjoy 
Save  his  own  little  funny  thin  queue  ! 

He  could  make  it  a  whip  or  a  string, 
Or  a  snake  with  a  terrible  sting; 
He  could  tie  it  in  knots, 
And,  my  goodness!  what  lots 
Of  tricks  he  could  play  with  the  thing  ! 

No  wonder  he  smiles  askew; 

Was  there  ever,  in  all  Che-fu, 

.\  happier  lad  than  the  little  Thing  Ku 

With  his  little  thin  queue,  think  you  ? 


TIME 


DAY. 


"  If  any  one  ever  reaches  the  North  Pole  he  will  finti  no  north,  no  east,  no  west,  only  south, 
whatever  way  he  turns.  The  time  of  day  is  also  a  puzzling  matter,  for  the  pole  is  the  meeting- 
place  of  every  meridian  and  the  time  of  all  holds  good." 


"  What  will  they  do  ?  "  said  the  midshipmite, 
"  With  the  North  Pole,  if  they  find  it  ?  " 

"  Run  up  the  flag !  "  (juoth  old  Jack  Tar, 
'•  And  set  the  watch  to  mind  it. 

"  Every  man  Jack  who  rounds  his  back 

Against  the  ])o\e  to  shore  it 
Will  find,  when  he  attempts  to  tack, 

South  —  only  south  —  before  it ; 
No  north,  no  east,  no  western  way  ; 
In  fact,  no  proper  time  of  day." 


••  Xo  time  of  day  !  "  said  the  midship- 
mite. 
"  What  could  be  more  complete  ? 
All  times  of  day  must  be  all  right 

Where  all  meridians  meet. 
So  there  will  be,  beyond  a  doubt. 
No  proper  time  for  "turning  out," 
Or  knocking  midshi])mites  about. 

And,  in  that  blest  retreat. 
No  time  the  galley  sweets  to  lock. 
Rut  'plum-duff'  all  around  the  clock !  " 
Allele  AI.  Ilayward. 


GEOGRAPHY   AND    BED. 


"This  world  is  rolling  round  in  space" — 
That  's  what  my  teacher  said ; 
So  now  I  know  why,  Monday  night, 
I  tumbled  out  of  bed. 

io8s 


C.  G.  All'erger. 


SIX    GOBOLINKS. 


By  Carolyn   Wells. 


This  goose  has  escaped  from  the  lot, 
And  is  running  away  at  full  trot ; 

Her  course  she  would  take 

By  the  edge  of  a  lake. 
The  reflection  is  clear,  is  it  not? 


T 


Imagine  these  ladies'  surprise  — 

They  could  scarcely  believe  their  own  eyes! 

When  they  measured  their  hats. 

Whether  turbans  or  flats, 
Thev  always  were  just  of  a  size  I 


These  two  little  chaps,  as  you  see. 
Were  warming  their  toes  by  a  tree ; 

They  said,  "  It  is  queer 

At  this  time  of  the  year. 
But  we  're  going  to  be  stung  by  a  bee. 


SIX    C.DliOI.INKS. 


1087 


The  girl  with  the  theater  hat 
Went  tripping  along  to  the  "  mat." 

She  cut  off  the  view 

Of  a  dozen  or  two, 
Tint  she  did  n't  care  much  about  that. 


Two  rhickalinks  stood 
On  a  queer  piece  of  wood  ; 

Their  balance  was  not  very  firm 
But  their  dangerous  act 
They  explained  by  this  fact- 
"  The  early  bird  catches    the 


Vou  cannot  say,  "  I  know  full  well 
What  traits  these  birds  are  showing"  ; 

Because,  you  see,  you  cannot  tell 
Which  wav  you  think  they  're  going. 


A   VOLUBLE   \X")\VEL. 


By  a.  J.  B.'VCKUS. 


» NGR.\TEFUL  people  I 
Oh,  dear!  Oh,  dear!" 
piped  a  small  voice.  "  It 
is  too  bad !  I  am  not 
going  to  stand  it  much 
longer.  1  '11  just  leave  the 
English  alphabet,  I  will, 
and  go  over  to  France, 
where  they  do  try  to  pro- 
nounce me,  even  if  it  is 
queerly." 
Helen,  who  was  just  starting  for  school, 
looked  about  her.     Who  was  talking  ?     There 


your 


was  certainly  no  one  in  the  room.     "  Hello," 
she  cried,  trying  not  to  feel  scared. 

'•  W-h-e-r-e   are    you,   and   w-h-a-t 
name  ?  "  stammered  Helen. 

"  I  am  the  fifth  vowel,  and  the  way  I  am  treated 
is  perfectly  shameful.  1  could  excuse  the  baby 
calling  me  '  00,'  "  went  on  Master  U,  with  rising 
passion ;  but  when  men  of  letters  are  careless,, 
it  is  too  much !  Letters,  indeed  !  "  spitefully. 
"They  are  hardly  men  of  consonants,  /should 
transport  them  to  Siberia,  or  at  least  to  Russia, 
and  t/un  they  'd  miss  the  vowels !  But  it  's  just 
because  we  are  a  small  family  and  useful  that  we 


io88 


A    VOLUBLE    VOWEL. 


are  so  imposed  upon.  Sister  E  is  really  the 
only  one  of  us  they  treat  at  all  decently,  she 
always  works  so  much  for  them.  And  sister  O 
they  respect  a  little,  though  when  /  'm  with  her 
they  turn  and  twist  us  all  sorts  of  ways,  espe- 
cially if  G  and  H  join  us." 

"  But  what  do  they  do  to  you  ? "  asked 
Helen,  much  interested  in  this  long  speech. 

"  Do  !  "  screamed  U.  "  Why,  they  slight  me  ! 
I  'm  only  safe  in  books,  or  when  they  call  the 
roll,  that  is  to  say  the  alphabet.  Please  spell 
'  duty.'  " 

"  D-u,  doo,  t-y,  ty,  dooty,"  said  Helen,  glibly. 

"  Oh,  of  course !  "  bitterly.  "  Now  spell '  tutor.' " 

"  T-u,  too,  t-o-r,  tor,  tootor." 

"  Yes,  you  are  just  as  bad  as  the  rest.  Never 
give  a  fellow  half  a  chance  !  " 

"What  do  you  mean,  anyhow?  Can't  you 
explain  ?  "  asked  Helen. 

U  paused  a  moment,  and  then  said  firmly : 
"  Of  course  I  can.  Take  the  word  '  mute.' 
You  've  heard  of  that,  I  hope.  Oh,  you  have ! 
Well,  do  you  call  it  '  moot '  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Helen,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Then  you  have  no  right  to  call  duty 
'  dooty  ' ;  or,  when  my  double  first  cousin  W  is 
in  a  word  with  E,  you  certainly  should  n't  say 
'  noos  '  for  '  news,'  which  ought  to  rhyme  with 
pews.     Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"Why,  yes!"  said  Helen,  admiringly.  "It 
really  does  n't  seem  fair,  when  you  put  it  that 
way,  does  it  ?  I  must  try  and  think  of  U 
more,"  smiling. 

"I  only  ask  justice,"  said  U,  plaintively; 
" and  as  for  thought"  holding  his  head  u|) 
proudly,  "  the  highest  classes  in  England  and 
America  always  respect  me,  and  linguists  and 
elocutionists  honor  me,"  with  emphasis. 

"Tell  me  something  about  your  family  — 
do  !  "  urged  Helen. 

"  Ah  !  I  'm  glad  to  see  you  are  interested  in 
us,"  said  U,  graciously.  "  Well,  let  me  see ! 
We  '11  begin  with  brother  A,  as  he  's  the  head 
of  the  house.  In  the  first  place,  our  pedigree 
is  a  long  one  —  'way  back  to  the  old  Romans, 
you  know." 

"  To  be  sure  —  the  Latin  te.xt !  "  cried  Helen, 
anxious  to  show  she  knew  something. 

U  nodded.     "  A,  I,  and  O  are  the  strongest 


of  us.  They  often  stand  alone.  But  sister  E  is 
in  everything,  nearly  —  quite  intrusive,  /  think. 
However,  as  I  said,  she  is  quite  overworked, 
and  can't  help  herself,  poor  vowel !  But,  to  go 
on,  brother  I  is  an  egotist,  always  strutting  by 
himself,  when  he  gets  a  chance,  and  swelling 
into  a  capital.  E  and  myself  never  have  a 
chance  to  be  big,  except  when  we  lead  a  sen- 
tence or  begin  a  proper  name.  Then,  there  's 
sister  O,  the  most  emotional  creature  when 
she  's  alone,  always  surprised  or  shocked  or 
sorry  or  glad.  And  now  for  myself,"  compla- 
cently. "  I  'm  very  dependent,  you  must  know. 
G  guards  me  a  good  deal,  and  Q  rarely  q^iits 
me  —  ha !  ha !    See  ?  " 

Helen  looked  rather  dubious  for  a  moment, 
and  then  brightened.     "  Of  course !  " 

"  I  hate  some  of  the  consonants,  though,"  U 
chattered  on,  with  a  pettish  air.  "  N  is  always 
making  me  unhappy  or  uncomfortable ;  and  with 
R  —  rough  old  thing  !  —  I  get  rude,  rush  about, 
and  run  into  some  trouble  or  other  always.  It 's 
fun  sometimes  to  be  with  F ;  but  people  are 
often  very  disagreeable  when  I  walk  out  be- 
tween D  and  N  —  ha!  ha!  I  have  to  laugh. 
You  know  I  'm  the  last  vowel  in  the  alphabet, 
for  W  is  only  my  double  first  cousin,  and  Y  is  a 
kind  of  foster-brother  of  I.  But  it  's  awfully 
dull  down  there  with  V  \V  X  Y  Z ;  they  hardly 
ever  go  with  me." 

Helen  nodded  thoughtfully. 

"  And  now,"  continued  the  letter,  brightly, 
"before  I  leave  — "  but  as  Helen  listened 
eagerly,  the  scene  began  to  change.  She  found 
herself  in  a  school-room,  with  her  head  on  a 
desk,  listening  to  a  chorus  from  the  reading 
class,  led  by  the  teacher.  "  Not  dooty,  but 
duty;  not  tootor,  but  tutor;  not  noos,  but  news; 
not  stoopid,  but  stupid." 

"  You  '11  catch  it,  going  oft"  nodding  like 
that ! "  said  a  familiar  voice  in  her  ear,  which 
sounded  very  like  that  of  Mabel  Lawton,  her 
deskmate. 

"  But  where  is  U  ?  "  cried  Helen,  eagerly. 

"  Where  is  you  !  "  mimicked  Mabel,  smiling. 
"  Oh,  my  eye,  what  grammar !  Why,  here  I 
am,  of  course,"  with  a  convincing  pinch. 

This  rouser  was  effectual,  but  Helen  never 
forgot  her  two  minutes'  dream. 


■Si 


v«r 


*■ 


'•I'USSVS    I'RIl'lNL)." 

A   SKETCH    OF   THK    I.IFK    OF    M.MK.    KOXNER. 


By  F.  B.  Wickersham. 


One  day,  years  ago,  a  little  blue  pincushion 
was  seen  hangifig  on  the  door  of  a  well-known 
liouse  in  Amsterdam.  This  strange  though,  to 
that  city,  most  ordinary  sign  showed  that  a  little 
girl  baby  had  come  to  make  her  home  there, 
and  by  her  future  life  to  prove  whether  she 
were  deserving  of  a  j)lace  in  the  famous  country 
which  has  been  so  aptly  called  the  "  Land  of 
Pluck."  Now  this  you  shall  judge  for  yourself. 
This  baby  was  the  daughter  of  Heer  August 
Knip,  a  painter.    From  her  babyhood  this  little 

Vol.  X\.\I.— 137.  1089 


daughter,  Hcnnelte,  was  seen  to  be  wonderfully 
observant  of  all  the  strange  and  curious  things 
around  her. 

When  only  five  years  old  she  commenced 
drawing  from  nature  everything  that  came  witiiin 
the  range  of  her  young  eyes.  These  first  draw- 
ings were  all  dated  and  kept,  wiih  greatest  care, 
by  her  father,  whose  heart  was  filled  with  pride 
for  his  talented  litde  girl. 

By  a  sad  fate  the  poor  father  was  not  destined 
long  to  see  the  progress  of  his  daughter,  for 


logo 


PUSSY  S    P'RIEND. 


when  she  was  only  eleven  yenrs  old  he  lost  his  considered  themselves  very  unfortunate  indeed, 
eyesight  and  became  totally  blind.  His  ambi-  This  brave  little  girl  had  a  natural  lo\e  of  work 
tion  for  little  Henriette  and  the  desire  that  the    and  a  strong  constitution ;  these,  combined  with 


AT    HO.ME    IN    THF.    ^TTDIO. 


talent  which  he  recognized  should  be  developed 
to  the  utmost  became,  even  in  his  blindness, 
his  ruhng  passion.  From  this  time  commenced 
for  the  young  girl  a  life  of  such  hard  and 
constant  labor  that  I  fear  there  are  not  even 
many  li(>vs  in  America  who  would  not  have  felt 
like  rebelling  against  such  severity,  and  have 


a  noble  desire  to  please  and  reward  the  dear 
father  whose  hopes  were  all  centered  in  her, 
enabled  her  to  endure  the  severe  life  of  study 
which  followed. 

Her  father  was  her  only  teacher.  Under  his 
loving  care  and  direction  alone  she  developed 
and  cultivated  her  extraordinary  talent.     Living 


log' 


PUSSY  S    FRIEND. 


[Oct. 


then  in  the  country,  she  spent  every  day,  from 
sunrise  to  sunset,  at  her  easel, — when  the  days 
were  clear,  always  out  of  doors  in  the  fresh  air, 
and  when  cloudy,  in  her  studio, — stopping  her 
work  only  at  meal-times,  and  for  two  hours  in 
the  middle  of  each  day,  which  her  father  com- 
pelled her  to  spend  sitting  in  a  perfectly  dark 
room,  so  as  to  give  complete  rest  to  her  eyes. 
When  only  seventeen   she  exhibited  her  first 


Her  father,  while  he  guided  and  directed  her 
study,  in  no  way  interfered  with  the  bent  of 
her  own  inclination,  and  he  left  her  free  to  exer- 
cise in  her  own  way  her  unusual  qualities  of 
observation  and  imagination. 

She  painted  everything  that  attracted  her 
attention, —  animals,  interiors  of  houses,  land- 
scapes, etc.,  —  though  from  a  little  child  ani- 
mals were  always  the  subjects  she  Hked  best. 


/'/■ 


■S**^ 


WVNKF-N,  BLVNiCEN,    AND    NOD. 


pictures,  and  these  won  for  her  the  praise  of  the 
severest  art  critics,  who  promptly  called  attention 
to  her  rare  talents,  and  ever  since  then  her  works 
have  held  an  honorable  position  in  Europe. 

America,  always  appreciative  of  true  worth, 
was  not  slow  to  acknowledge  the  merit  of  her 
work,  and  one  of  her  pictures  gained  a  high 
prize  at  our  Centennial  Exhibition,  where  they 
were  first  brought  before  the  American  public. 


In  1850  Henriette  Knip  became  Mme.  Ron- 
ner,  and,  with  her  husband,  went  to  Brussels 
to  live.  AVhen  first  married,  their  income  was 
very  small,  but  the  young  artist  had  brought 
with  her  to  her  new  home  that  which  I  am 
sure  each  boy  and  girl  will  agree  with  me  is 
much  better  than  mere  dollars  and  cents,  and 
which  in  the  end  usually  gains  all  things,  dol- 
lars   and   cents    included,   and    that    was    her 


rrssv  s  frif.xd. 


1093 

Dutch  iduck  and  perseverance.  With  these  on  canvas  so  truly  all  their  clitilercnt  moods  and 
she  set  to  work  to  overcome  all  difficulties,  expressions,  which  are  almost  as  varied  as  the 
At  this  time  she  would  often  be  at  her  easel    expressions  on  the  faces  of  the  boys  and  girls. 


J^tJnf^^ 


^i   J^^'^ 


A   l-L/^LbL*   Ob»h.KVbK. 


as  early  as  four  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Later 
Mnie.  Ronner  devoted  all  her  time  and  tal- 
^  cnts  to  the  painting  of  dogs  and  cats,  whicli 
have  ever  been  the  favorite  subjects  of  her 
brush.  These  household  pets,  indeed,  have 
found  a  true  friend  in  this  gifted  artist,  who  un- 
derstands them  so  well,  and  who   reproduces 


No  more  sincere  compliment  could  have 
been  paid  to  ^[me.  Ronner's  skill  than  was 
oftcred  her  by  a  dog.  'I'ho  Queen  of  Belgium 
and  her  sister-in-law  the  Countess  of  Flanders 
each  had  several  favorite  dqgs  whose  jjortraits 
they  wished  painted  by  Mme.  Ronner.  They 
were  brought  to  the  studio  at  tlifferent  times  for 


T094 


PUSSY  S    FRIEND. 


[Oct. 


their  "  sittings,"  and  on  a  certain  occasion  one 
of  the  countess's  dogs,  a  rather  savage,  ill- 
tempered  animal,  coming  into  the  room,  found 
the  newly  finished  portrait  of  one  of  his  com- 
panions standing  on  the  floor.  Barking  furi- 
ously, he  rushed  excitedly  to  it,  prepared  for  a 
violent  battle,  when,  seeing  his  mistake,  he  stood 
quite  still  with  astonishment,  staring  at  the  pic- 
ture, unable  to  understand  why  his  friend  should 
be  there  and  yet  not  offer  to  play  or  fight. 
Still  later,  Mme.  Ronner  almost   entirely  gave 


established  her  reputation  and  placed  her,  even 
m  Paris,  on  a  level  with  the  great  specialist 
Eugene  Lambert.  1 1  is  quite  a  revelation  to  see 
how  many  different  e-xpressions  Mme.  Ronner's 
pussies  have.  She  never  makes  the  mistake 
of  giving  them  a  human  expression,  as  so  many 
painters  do  :  they  are  always  cats,  but  so  varied 
that  it  makes  one  think  that  each  kitten  is  a 
distinct  individual  in  its  way,  and  not  at  all  to 
be  judged  and  treated  by  one  general  rule 
which  must  apply  to  the  whole  cat  race. 


A    QUIET    NAP. 


up  the  painting  of  dogs,  and  devoted  all  her 
attention  to  cats,  whose  restless  playfulness 
makes  them  such  difficult  as  well  as  such  fas- 
cinating subjects.  But  Mme.  Ronner's  won- 
derful quickness  of  observation  enabled  her  to 
catch  every  trick  and  expression  of  these  little 
animals,  at  once  so  frolicsome,  so  active,  and  so 
difficult  to  picture  with  the  brush  —  and  yet 
which  she  portrayed  with,  as  one  critic  humor- 
ously says,  "  a  care  that  might  kill  a  cat." 
It  is  her  paintings  of  cats  especially  that  has 


Every  one  of  my  readers,  I  am  sure,  would  be 
charmed  could  he  or  she  have  looked  into  Mme. 
Ronner's  beautiful,  sunny  studio  as  I  saw  it. 
There  the  walls  were  covered  with  paintings  of 
old  cats  and  young  cats,  big  cats  and  little  cats, 
sleeping  cats  and  waking  cats  ;  and  on  the  floor, 
darting  in  and  out  among  the  chairs  and  easels, 
springing  from  the  tables  and  playing  bo-peep 
with  one  another  behind  the  portieres,  were  all 
kinds  of  live  cats. 

These  favored  pussies  lived  in  Mme.  Ronner's 


"  rrssv's  friknd.' 


1095 


studio,  and  all  her  pictures  were  sketched  from 
life,  and  each  one  portrays  some  actual  situa- 
tion in  which  she  had  found  her  kittens.  If  you 
look  at  many  of  these  pictures  they  will  give  you 
a  good  idea  how  restless  and  mischievous  cats 
are  —  almost  as  lively  as  monkeys  or,  I  was 
going  to  say,  little  boys  and  girls. 

In  the  midst  of  this  charming  studio,  with 


ing  her  greatest  happiness  in  her  peaceful, 
happy  home  life  and  her  dearly  loved  art,  to 
which  now,  at  eighty-three,  she  devotes  as 
much  time  and  strength  of  energy  as  in  her 
younger  days. 

Yet  it  is  impossible  for  her  to  refuse  the  richly 
merited  honors  that  are  thrust  upon  her,and  she 
has  received  a  great  number  of  medals  from  dif- 


SOME  OF  THE  ARTIST'S   MODELS.      (A   SKETCH   FROM   LIFE.) 

her  easel  always  before  her,  sat  a  dear  old  lady  ferent  countries,  including  the  cross  ol  the  Order 

with  pink  cheeks  and  snow-white  hair,  and  eyes  of  Leopold,  conferred  by  the  King  of  Belgium,  a 

so  kind  and  gentle  that  you  feel  sure  they  must  distinction  which  few  women  po.ssess.     Holland, 

see  the  best,  not  only  in  cats  and  dogs,  but  in  her  own  land,  has  not  been  behindhand  in  do- 

everything.    This  was  Mme.  Ronner,  whose  life  ing  her  justice,  for  in  the  magnificent  museum 

has  been  a  very  simple  one;  for,  although  the  opened  a  few  years  ago  in  Amsterdam,  the  name 

artistic  world  is  proud  to  do  her  homage,  her  of  Henriette  Ronner  is   inscribed    among  the 

nature  is  strangely  retiring  and  unaffected,  find-  most  illustrious  painters  of  her  native  country. 


"KIBUN    DAIZIN" 

OR 

FROM    SHARK-BOY    TO    MERCHANT    PRINCE. 


By  Gensai  Murai. 


Chapter   VHI. 


AN    ECCENTRIC    FELLOW. 


had  at  last  arrived  from  Ki.shu,  they  vied  with 
one  another  in  coming  to  Bunkichi's  ship  and 
buying  up  his  oranges.    The  inevitable  result  of 
When  all  the  wholesale  dealers  in  oranges  in     the  rise  in  the  price  of  oranges  was  to  make  him 
the  vast  city  of  Yedo  heard  that  an  orange-ship    a  gainer  of  more  than  fifty  thousand  rio. 

Bunkichi,  after  this, 
carefullv  reasoned  out 
that  on  account  of  the 
recent  continuance  of 
the  west  wind  no  ship 
could  possibly  have 
sailed  from  Yedo  to 
Osaka,  so  that  there 
must  be  a  scarcity  of 
salted  salmon  in  that 
city,  while  there  was 
now  an  abundant  and 
specially  cheap  supply 
of  them  in  Yedo.  So 
he  thought  he  would 
take  a  supply  over  to 
Osaka  and  make  an- 
other great   profit. 

When  he  spoke  of 
this  plan  to  his  men 
they  were  ready  to  go, 
for  his  sake.  There- 
upon Bunkichi  bought 
up  a  cargo  of  salted 
salmon,  and,  putting  it 
on  board,  waited  for 
the  rettirn  of  better 
weather.  Nor  had  he 
long  to  wait.  As  a  reac- 
tion, as  it  were,  to  the 
stormy  westerly  wind, 
in  a  few  days  an  east 
wind  began  to  blow, 
and,  availing  himself  of 
the  first  opportunity,  he 
hoisted  sail.  He  soon 
entered  the  harbor  of 
(SEE  PAGE  no...)  Osaka,    and    there    he 


MATAHACHl    IN    THE    GREAT    FIRE    AT    YEDO. 


1096 


I 


'KIBUN    DAIZIN, 


again  made  a  profit  of  tens  of  thousands 
rio. 

Every  speculation  he  had  planned  was 
crowned  with  success,  and  in  little  more  than 
a  month  he  had  amassed  the  enormous  sum  of 
near  upon  a  hundred  thousand  rio.  He  was 
aided  in  this  success  largely  by  the  exertions 
of  Kichidayu,  and  gave  him  one  thousand 
rio  out  of  the  profit,  while  he  handsomely  re- 
warded every  one  of  the  crew,  w'ho  were  all 
greatly  delighted  at  their  good  fortune. 

Captain  Kichidayu,  taking  his  money  with 
him  as  a  present  to  his  family,  returned  to 
Sakai,  his  native  to\vn,  where  he  met  again  his 
dear  wife  and  children  after  his  long  absence, 
and  then  went  back  to  Osaka.  Thence  he  ac- 
companied Bunkichi  to  Kumano-Ura. 

At  Kumano  the  news  of  his  safe  arrival  at 
Yedo  had  been  received  at  tlie  Daikokuya  and 
by  the  townspeople  with  the  liveliest  satisfac- 
tion. They  had  been  waiting  eagerly  for  his 
return.  Sure  enough,  Bunkichi  had  come  back 
on  board  that  very  Iiirei-maru,  and  the  people, 
whether  they  were  personally  known  to  him  or 
not,  flocked  round  him  with  their  congratula- 
tions. 

From  that  day  the  master  of  the  Daikokuya 
treated  him  as  his  guest,  while  the  people  of 
the  town  respected  him  as  a  gentleman,  and 
no  one  called  him  the  Wanizame-Kozo  any 
more. 

On  his  arrival  home  Bunkichi  recounted  all 
his  transactions  to  the  master  of  the  Daikokuya, 
and  then  went  at  once  to  the  merchants  from 
whom  he  had  bought  the  fruit  that  he  sold  in 
Yedo.  "  I  thank  you  for  the  cargo  of  oranges 
you  sold  me  some  time  ago  at  such  a  cheap 
price,"  said  he.  "  I  made  a  great  profit  by  that 
cargo,  but  I  don't  like  to  be  only  a  gainer  my- 
self while  you  all  are  losing  your  monev,  so 
I  '11  give  you  double  what  I  then  paid  you  for 
the  oranges." 

On  account  of  this  unexpected  liberalitv 
they  were  very  grateful  to  him,  and  his  fame 
went  abroad  all  over  the  province  of  Kii,  and 
everybody  began  to  know  him,  and  whenever 
he  wanted  to  invest  in  any  goods,  he  had  no 
difficulty  in  getting  all  he  wished. 

The  dav  came  at  last  when  Bunkichi  deter- 


(JR    I'ROM    SH.\RK-BOY    TO    MERCH.WT    PRINCE, 
of 


1097 


mined  to  go  up  to  the  great  city  of  Yedo  to 
make  his  name  famous  in  the  whole  of  Japan 
by  trading  on  a  large  scale.  With  this  resolve, 
he  negotiated  with  some  of  the  big  merchants 
of  Kumano  as  to  whether  they  would  make  a 
contract  with  him  to  send  up  all  their  oranges 
and  timber  to  his  shop  as  their  only  agency  in 
Yedo.  As  they  were  already  under  a  debt  of  ob- 
ligation to  him,  every  one  of  them  agreed  to  do 
his  best  to  keep  Bunkichi's  store  in  Yedo  well 
supplied.  Bunkichi  was  greatly  rejoiced,  and, 
on  this  occasion  traveling  overland,  he  arrived 
at  Yedo  in  due  time  and  established  himself  in 
the  Hatchobori  district,  under  the  name  of 
Kinokuniya.*  This  happened  in  the  second 
year  of  the  Sho-o  era  (1653  a.d.),  when  he  was 
nineteen  years  of  age.  Then  he  changed  his 
name  Bunkichi  into  Bunzayemon  (his  father's 
name),  and  began  to  trade  on  a  large  scale  in 
timber  and  oranges  from  Kishu,  selling  them 
to  the  whole  city  of  Yedo.  Thus  his  prosperity 
increased. 

One  day  a  master  carpenter,  who  had  the 
entree  to  the  house,  came  to  see  Bunzayemon, 
saying :  "  I  have  come  to  consult  with  you  on 
a  rather  strange  matter.  How  would  you  like 
to  engage  a  man  for  your  business?  " 

"  Well,  it  all  depends  on  what  kind  of  a  man 
he  is,"  was  the  reply. 

"  He  is  rather  an  eccentric  sort  of  fellow. 
If  I  tell  you  plainly  about  him  there  will  be 
little  chance  of  your  employing  him ;  but  the 
strange  thing  is  that  he  wishes  me  to  do  so. 
'  If  Bunzayemon  will  employ  me,  good  ;  if  he 
w^ill  not  employ  me,  he  is  a  fool,  and  I  don't 
want  to  be  employed.'  Those  were  the  very 
words  he  said  to  me,  and  added,  to  my  sur- 
prise :  '  .As  for  you,  if  he  has  n't  the  sense  to 
engage  me,  you  need  n't  regret  losing  such  a 
customer  as  he  is.'  " 

"  I  don't  wonder  you  were  surprised,"  re- 
plied Bunzayemon:  "but  what  has  he  been 
hitherto?  " 

To  this  question  the  carpenter  replied  :  "  He 
is  the  second  son  in  a  warrior  family  ;  but  as 
far  as  I  can  .see  he  is  an  idle,  lazy  man.  There 
are  many  of  his  kind  in  the  world,  as  you  know  ; 
but  he  is  rather  an  e.vtreme  type  of  the  class. 
He  does  n't  like  to  get  up  early  nor  to  move 
*  House  of  the  Kino  Kuni  (country  of  Kii). 


Vol.  XXXI.— i-.S. 


1098 


KIBUN    DAIZIN 


[Oct. 


about  at  any  time.  In  spite  of  his  being  depen- 
dent on  me  for  his  support,  he  does  n't  hesitate 
to  demand  to  h've  in  luxury.  And  then  he  has 
the  impudence  to  request  me  to  recommend 
him  to  you." 

Bunzayemon  meditated  a  while  and  then 
said:  "It  's  rather  interesting,  what  you  tell 
me.     At  all  events,  bring  him  here." 

"  Do  you  really  mean  to  engage  him?  You 
had  better  give  him  up." 

To  which  the  merchant  replied:  "When  I 
see  him  I  shall  decide  whether  I  shall  engage 
him  or  not.     Bring  him  here  first !  " 

Then  Seihachi,  the  carpenter,  went  home, 
fearing  inwardly  lest  he  should  lose  his  customer 
by  bringing  tliis  man  to  Bunzayemon's  notice, 
though  he  could  not  help  acceding  to  the  man's 
request. 

After  a  time  Bunzayemon  heard  high  words 
in  the  front  of  the  shop.  One  of  the  voices  he 
recognized  as  that  of  Seihachi,  who  was  ex- 
claiming :  "  Chobei  San,  you  ought  not  to  go 
in  by  the  front  door ;  manners  should  compel 
you  to  go  to  the  back  door.  And  don't  give 
yourself  airs  here ;  if  you  do  I  shall  be  dis- 
graced." 

To  this  the  other  replied  :  "  What  are  you  talk- 
ing about  ?  We  are  not  dogs  ;  why  should  we  go 
round  to  the  kitchen?"  And  so  saying,  the 
young  man  stalked  up  to  the  shop  called  Kino- 
kuniya,  in  spite  of  Seihachi's  remonstrance,  and 
asked  somewhat  loudly :  "  Is  tlie  master  at 
home?  " 

Hearing  him,  Bunzayemon  entered  the  shop 
from  the  inner  room. 

No  sooner  did  Seihachi  see  him  than  he  be- 
gan to  apologize:  "Master,  I  am  more  sorry 
than  I  can  tell  you,  and  I  beg  your  pardon  for 
this  fellow's  rudeness."  As  he  spoke  he  was 
holding  Chobei  by  the  sleeve. 

Bunzayemon,  without  heeding  the  apology, 
civilly  welcomed  the  strange  guest,  saying: 
"Come in,  sir." 

The  young  man  stalked  into  the  inner  room, 
while  Seihachi,  feeling  like  a  fish  out  of  water, 
followed  him.  Bunzayemon  ushereu  the  guests 
into  one  of  the  finest  rooms  in  his  house.  Sei- 
hachi was  troubled   at    heart,   for   the    man's 

"*  A  tobacco-tray. 

t  The  Chinese  reckoning-board,  consisting  of  beads 


clothes  were  muddy,  and  said  :  "  Sir,  I  fear  we 
shall  soil  your  floor." 

Without  even  listening  to  Seihachi's  words, 
or  showing  that  he  had  heard  them,  the  host 
courteously  said :  "  I  am  Bunzayemon  of  the 
Kinokuniya ;  and  what  is  your  name?" 

"  My  name  is  Chobei,"  answered  the  youth 
somewhat  haughtily. 

"  I  'm  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance." 

Seihachi  kept  making  signs  to  Chobei  as  to 
his  behavior,  but  the  latter  did  not  take  the  least 
notice. 

Seihachi  in  his  distress  said  to  Bunzayemon  : 
"  Please,  sir,  I  beg  your  pardon  for  his  un- 
mannerly behavior.  1  think  he  must  be  a  little 
out  of  his  mind.  I  'm  sorry  to  have  brought 
such  a  fellow." 

Meanwhile  Bunzayemon  and  Chobei  sat  with 
the  tabakobon  *  between  them  and  looked  into 
each  other's  faces.  For  a  while  neither  of  them 
spoke,  while  Seihachi,  whose  trouble  of  mind 
was  increased  by  this  state  of  affairs,  tried  to 
extricate  himself  from  this  uncomfortable  posi- 
tion and  said  : 

"  Chobei  San,  we  had  better  take  our  leave 
now."  Then,  turning  to  the  host,  "  Sir,  you 
won't  engage  him  after  all,  will  you,  sir? 

Thereupon  Bunzayemon,  speaking  somewhat 
loudly,  said  :  "  Oh,  yes,  I  '11  engage  you,  Chobei 
San,  and  take  you  on  as  one  of  my  men,  if  that 
is  your  wish." 

"  Then  do  you  really  engage  me?  "  And  as 
he  spoke  Chobei  quickly  moved  backward  a  lit- 
tle and  bowed  to  the  floor,  in  the  act  of  show- 
ing respect  and  thanks  to  his  superior. 

Bunzayemon  then  put  on  a  lordly  air  and 
asked  him  :  "  Chobei,  are  you  skilled  in  working 
the  abacus?  "  t 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  it,"  he  replied, 
as  he  placed  both  his  hands  on  the  matting  in 
the  attitude  of  respect,  "because  I  was  bred  in 
a  warrior  family." 

"  If  that  is  so  you  '11  be  of  no  use  in  the 
shop,"  said  the  master,  scornfully.  "  What  can 
you  do  then?  " 

To  which  Chobei  answered,  "  I  know  how 
to  turn  a  lot  of  money,  sir." 

"That 's  interesting  !  "  replied  the  master. 

or  balls  strunii  on  wires  or  rods  set  in  a  frame. 


'9°^■] 


OR    I-RO.M     SIIAKK-HOV    TO    MERCHAXT    I'RINCK. 


1099 


The  carpenter,  stricken  diimh  with  astonish- 
ment while  the  negotiation  was  going  on,  said 
at  last,  when  Chobei  had  gone,  "  Sir,  have  you 
really  engaged  him?  I  can't  tell  you  how  re- 
lieved I  am.  I  've  been  greatly  troubled  by  the 
thought  that  I  should  be  disgraced  on  account 
of  him.  Please  tell  me  why  were  you  so  civil 
to  him  at  first  ?  " 

"You  don't  understand,  I  see,"  said   Bun- 


"  BL'NZAYE.MO.S"   THEN    PUT  O.N   A  LOKDLV  AIR. 

zayemon,  laughing.  "  Before  I  engaged  hini 
he  was  my  guest,  and  as  he  belongs  to  the  war- 
rior class,  his  social  rank  is  entitled  to  con- 
sideration. But  when  I  have  once  engaged 
him,  then  I  am  his  master,  and  he  is  my  ser- 
vant, and  I  must  treat  him  accordingly." 

"  I  see,  I  see,"  said  the  carpenter.  "  That  is 
a  fine  way  of  looking  at  it.  Well,  then,  sup- 
pose I  go  to  another  man's  house,  I  may  act 


in  a  like  haughty  manner  myself  before  I  get 
engaged! " 

"  Certainly ;  but  if  you  do,  you  may  get 
disliked  instead  of  engaged";  at  which  reply 
the  carpenter  was  profoundly  puzzled. 

Early  the  ne.\t  day  the  new  employee  begged 
his  master  to  advance  him  some  pocket  money, 
which  was  promptly  given  him  ;  and  having  got 
it,  off  he  went,  no  one  knew  whither,  antl  did 
not  return  even  for  the 
midday  meal. 

Then  the  other  em- 
ployees warned  their 
master,  saying:  "Sir, 
what  is  the  use  of  that 
sort  of  man?  We  don't 
know  where  he  has  come 
from.  It  's  really  un- 
.safe  to  have  that  sort  of 
fellow  about  the  house, 
sir." 

But  the  master  paid  no 
heed   to  their  warnings. 
"  Not  a  bit  of  it!      No 
matter  where  his  birth- 
place is ;  so  long  as  the 
man  is  worth  having,  my 
purpose  is  served.    I  can 
see  he  has  plenty  of  com- 
mon  sense,  and    I  war- 
rant he  '11  be  of  good  ser- 
vice some  day.     When- 
ever you  plan  on  a  large 
scale  you  must  have  good 
assistants :      there     were 
four  kindly   men    under 
Yoshisune,the  great  gen- 
eral,    and    twenty-eight 
generals  under  Shingen, 
the    great    lord    of    the 
middle  ages.    Such  men 
we  look  to  for  our  e.xamples.     Since  the  days 
of  old  every  distinguished  man  has  attaclied  to 
himself  able  supporters.    Merchants  should  do 
the  same,  and,  as  certain  as  the  day  dawns,  suc- 
cess will  come  to  the  business  man  who  em- 
ploys many  good  hands  under  him.     Wait  and 
see.    Chobei  will  do  some  noteworthy  things!  " 
Thus  he  instructed  his  servants  in  his  principles. 
Toward   the   evening    of   that   day    Chobei 


I  lOO 


"  KIBUN    DAIZIN 


(Oct. 


came  back,  but  with  a  downcast  countenance. 
Bunzayemon  did  not  ask  where  he  had  been, 
nor  did  Chobei  volunteer  any  information. 
The  next  day  again,  and  the  next,  he  asked  for 
more  money,  and  went  out  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, coming  back  late  at  night.  He  continued 
in  this  way  for  about  half  a  month.  The  others 
once  more  warned  their  master,  but  he  still  re- 
fused to  listen  to  them. 

One  day  Chobei  came  to  his  master  and 
said :  "  Sir,  you  import  a  lot  of  timber  from 
Kii  Province  and  try  to  sell  it  at  once  among 
the  people  of  this  city.  But  Yedo  is  a  place 
where  fires  are  so  frequent  that,  if  you  buy  up 
a  lot  of  timber  at  a  time  when  the  price  is  low 
and  keep  it,  it  's  certain  you  will  make  a 
great  profit  when  some  big  fire  occurs.  But  to 
find  a  good  place  for  keeping  timber,"  he  went 
on,  "is  one  of  the  chief  difficulties,  because,  as 
you  are  well  aware,  if  you  keep  it  near  at  hand, 
in  the  heart  of  the  city,  there  's  danger  of  its 
being  destroyed  by  fire,  and  if  you  keep  it  in  a 
river  or  the  sea,  either  it  rots  or  is  eaten  by 
worms.  Now,  every  day  I  have  been  going 
about  looking  for  a  good  place  to  keep  it,  and  at 
last  I  have  found  one  at  Kiba  in  Fukagawa. 
Keep  timber  in  the  water  of  that  place,  and,  on 
account  of  the  quality  of  the  water,  worms  will 
not  eat  it,  but  the  wood  will  become  shiny  and 
improve  by  keeping.  Besides,  no  danger  will 
come  to  it  from  fire."  And  he  concluded  his 
far-sighted  plan  with,  "For  these  reasons,  I  hope 
you  will  soon  construct  a  reservoir  for  timber 
in  that  place." 

The  master  clapped  his  hands  in  admiration 
and  joy,  saying:  "Upon  my  word,  that  's  a 
capital  idea  I  I  thought  you  must  have  been 
planning  something,  but  I  never  thought  you 
were  looking  out  for  a  place  to  keep  timber. 
I  myself  had  turned  over  the  matter  in  my  mind 
some  time  ago,  but  on  account  of  my  many 
other  duties  I  had  n't  the  time  to  see  to  it 
myself,  and  I  thank  you  for  undertaking  it  for 
me."  And  then  and  there  he  intrusted  the 
building  of  the  timber  reservoir  to  Chobei. 

Chobei  lost  no  time  in  going  to  Fukagawa 
and  buying  ten  thousand  /sii/>o.  or  about  forty 
thousand  square  yards,  of  ground  near  the 
temple    of    Susaki.      He   built   a   large    reser- 

*  Hongo  precinct  of  the 


voir  there  and  removed  to  it  all  the  timber 
imported  by  his  master  from  Kii  Province. 
Besides,  Chobei  got  his  master's  permission 
to  send  out  men  to  the  neighboring  mountains 
to  buy  up  timber  where  it  could  be  got  cheap, 
and  having  deposited  it  all  at  Fukagawa,  waited 
contentedly  for  the  time  to  sell. 

Ch.'^pter    IX. 

THE    C.REAT    CONFLAGRATION— THE 
CHARITY    "  BENTO  " 

It  was  on  the  i8th  of  January  in  the  third 
year  of  the  Meireki  era  (1657  a.d.)  that  a  bit- 
terly cold  north  wind,  much  colder  than  usual, 
was  blowing  hard.  As  the  wind  increased  in 
strength,  the  foot-passengers,  even  in  the  busy 
streets,  became  fewer.  From  the  hour  of  tie,  or 
the  snake,  which  is  the  same  as  ten  o'clock  a.m. 
in  our  modern  reckoning,  it  had  become  a  reg- 
ular hurricane,  raising  clouds  of  dust  and  even 
whirling  pebbles  into  the  air.  It  seemed  as  if 
the  heavens  and  the  earth  were  creaking  and 
shaking  under  the  rage  of  it.  At  this  juncture 
the  people  of  the  city  were  alarmed  by  the  re- 
peated hasty  ringing  of  several  fire-bells  in  the 
direction  of  the  Hongo  district,  the  northern 
part  of  the  city.  Everybody  went  up  to  his  fire- 
lookout  and  saw  the  ominous  black  smoke  ris- 
ing in  the  shape  of  a  vast  eddying  cloud  over 
the  part  of  the  city  called  Maruyama  in  Hon- 
go.* 

It  happened  that,  a  few  days  before,  Bunza- 
yemon, with  five  or  six  young  men  and  a  plenti- 
ful supply  of  money,  had  gone  into  the  moun- 
tains of  the  neighboring  country  to  buy  lumber, 
leaving  the  management  of  his  affairs,  in  his 
absence,  entirely  to  Chobei  San. 

So  when  Chobei  hurried  up  to  the  lookout 
to  ascertain  where  it  was  that  the  fire  had 
broken  out,  he  glanced  up  to  the  heavens  and 
said  to  himself:  "  From  the  appearance  of  the 
sky  this  wind  will  not  fall  for  some  time,  and 
in  all  probability  the  whole  city  will  be  burned 
down,  because  the  houses  are  quite  dried  up 
by  the  continued  fine  weather  we  have  been 
having  lately.  This  is  the  time  to  save  many 
people,  and  it  is  also  a  very  good  time  to  make 
a  great  deal  of  profit!  " 

Maruyama  Mountain. 


OR    FROM    SMARK-nOV    TO    MKRCIIANT    PRINCE. 


I  lOI 


Saying  this,  Chobei  made  for  the  shop  and 
issued  orders  in  excited  haste  to  the  men. 
"  Now,  you  men  must  form  yourselves  into 
two  bands :  one  to  go  straight  to  Fukagawa 
and  get  a  huge  iron  pot  and  a  quantity  of  rice 
to  be  boiled,  and  make  preparations  for  a 
charity  lunch  for  the  poor ;  the  other  to  stay 
here  and  put  together  all  the  goods  in  the  shop 
that  we  may  transfer  them  without  loss  of  time 
to  Fukagawa."  Though  the  men  complained 
against  his  hasty  decision  to  retreat  before  the 
distant  fire,  they  could  not  resist  the  order  of 
the  chief  man  in  the  shop,  so  they  reluctantly 
began  to  pack  up  the  goods  in  preparation  for 
departure,  though  they  thought  it  would  only 
prove  necessary  in  the  end  to  brush  the  dust 
and  soot  from  off  them.  Seeing  how  they  were 
employed,  the  neighbors,  too,  jeered  at  the 
hurry  they  were  in  ;  but  consternation  soon 
spread  even  among  these  neighbors  when  the 
sparks,  carried  and  fanned  by  the  wind,  had 
started  fresh  fires — one  at  Kanda*  and  another 
at  Nihonbashi,  the  business  part  of  the  city. 

By  this  time  Chobei  had  already  closed  the 
shop  and  sent  off  some  valuables  and  some 
furniture  on  carts  to  Fukagawa,  escorted  by  the 
men  of  the  shop,  while  he  had  all  the  timber 
floated  down  the  river  to  the  same  place,  to 
be  put  with  the  other  timber  which  had  already 
been  stored  there.  Chobei  was  much  delighted 
to  find  that  all  the  preparations  had  been  carried 
out,  by  those  who  had  gone  before  them,  for 
the  charity  luncheon  for  the  destitute.  "  For 
our  first  work  is  the  saving  of  the  people,"  he 
e.xclaimcd. 

So  saying,  he  engaged  a  few  coolies  to  assist 
the  men  in  boiling  the  rice,  and  so  forth.  Hav- 
ing wrapped  the  boiled  rice  in  broad  bamboo 
leaves,  together  with  pickled  daikoti,\  he  con- 
trived a  luncheon  for  many  thousands  of  the 
poor  in  no  time. 

The  stronger  the  wind  grew  the  farther  the 
fire  spread :  it  devastated  the  city  with  such 
rapidity  that  noontide  of  that  day  saw  even 
the  districts  of  Hachobori  and  Shiba  re- 
duced to  heaps  of  smoldering  ashes.  Those 
who  were  burned  out  had  not  had  time  to  put 
away   their  furniture,  but   only   escaped   with 


their  lives,  and  were  seeking  in  vain  to  find 
shelter  in  the  houses  of  their  relatives,  who  had 
suffered  a  like  fate  with  them  and  could  not 
assist  them.  Not  knowing  where  to  turn,  they 
wandered  about  in  terror  the  whole  day,  and 
their  misery  was  such  that  they  could  not  even 
get  themselves  food. 

While  this  was  the  state  of  things,  a  band  of 
coolies  came  among  them  with  a  rectangular 
bamboo  basket  with  bentoX  in  it,  and  one  of 
them  held  aloft  a  paper  flag  with  huge  charac- 
ters on  it,  which  read  as  follows  :  "  Kinokuniya 
Bunzayemon's  Charity  Luncheon!" 

The  coolies  distributed  this  bento  among 
the  men  and  women  that  were  in  distress. 
Every  man  and  woman,  therefore,  whether 
young  or  old,  who  was  sore  oppressed  by  hun- 
ger, was  glad  to  get  hold  of  this  food  and  was 
relieved  by  it,  though  it  was  only  for  a  time. 
With  admirable  sagacity  Chobei  quickly  hired 
many  more  coolies  and  prepared  more  lun- 
cheons, sending  them  out  to  every  quarter  of 
the  city  ;  and  so  wherever  men  went  they  saw 
the  selfsame  flag  flying  for  charity,  and  the 
whole  city  was  surprised,  and  praised  the  gen- 
erosity of  this  Kinokuniya  Bunzayemon. 

In  this  great  fire  even  those  large  palaces  of 
the  i1aim!os,%  which  stood  in  the  line  of  the 
fire  and  which  could  in  ordinary  days  call  up 
many  hands  to  keep  the  fire  off,  were  not  able 
to  escape  from  the  disaster.  Even  the  nobles 
of  high  rank  and  their  retainers  knew  not  where 
to  find  shelter,  but  stood  bewildered  in  the 
corner  of  their  big  gardens  and  waited  for  help, 
but  in  vain.  For  such  personages  Chobei 
ordered  men  to  prepare  bento  in  nice  packages 
of  sasaori*\  and  to  present  it  to  those  nobles 
and  their  households  in  the  name  of  Kinokuniya 
Bunzayemon.  In  consequence,  even  the  ser- 
vants of  these  nobles  were  grateful  to  the  coolies, 
and  received  the  presents  on  behalf  of  their 
masters. 

Then,  too,  Chobei  ordered  the  men  of  Ki- 
nokuniya to  put  up  wooden  inclosures  round 
about  the  grounds  of  those  nobles  to  protect 
them  from  robbery  or  trespa.ss. 

The  fire  raged  through  the  whole  night  of 
the  1 8th  and  through  the  whole  of  the  next 


*  \  precinct  of  Yedo.  t  Large  white  radishes.  J  Luncheon. 

%  Femlal  lords,  or  the  nobility  of  Japan.  If  Bo.xes  made  with  bamboo  leaves. 


I  I02 


KIBUN    DAIZIN 


[Oct. 


day,  so  Chobei  engaged  yet  more  coolies,  and 
ordered  them  to  make  more  charity  benio  for 
the  rehef  of  the  poor. 

There  was  a  certain  man  named  Kamada 
Matahachi,  who  was  well  known  for  his  physi- 
cal strength.  He  had  always  kept  a  large 
portable  closet,  about  six  feet  by  three,  and  five 
feet  seven  inches  in  height,  in  which  to  carry 
his  furniture  in  case  of  fire.  When  he  thought 
his  house  was  in  danger,  he  put  all  his  belong 
mgs  into  this  box,  placed  a  sheet  of  matting 
on  the  top,  and  carried  all  these  on  his  back 
by  the  means  of  a  rope  specially  prepared  for 
the  purpose.  Carrying  a  long,  heavy  stick  in 
his  hand,  he  walked  unconcernedly  and  stead- 
ily among  the  crowd  like  an  elephant  among 
dogs.  Every  one  marveled  at  his  size  and 
strength,  and  was  forced  to  make  room  for  him 
to  go  by.  When  he  came  to  Fukagawa  to 
escape  from  the  fire,  he  saw  there  a  large  sign 
which  read : 

Day  laborers  are  wanted  for  carrying  the  charity 
bento.  Let  all  who  wish  to  be  engaged  call  at  the  tim- 
ber reservoir  of  Kinokuniya  Bunzayemon  at  Fukagawa. 
Three  meals  will  be  given,  and  one  hvan  mon  *  will 
be  paid  daily  for  wages. 

As  he  had  nowhere  to  go  at  the  time,  he  was 
glad  to  find  some  work.  He  went  to  the  tim- 
ber reservoir  of  Bunzayemon,  where  he  found 
a  bustle  and  hurrv  of  men  and  women,  hun- 


inner  room,  for  Chobei  came  out  and  was  also 
surprised  by  the  man's  appearance,  but  said : 
"  Nothing  can  be  more  fortunate  for  us  than  to 
have  the  assistance  of  Mr.  Matahachi,  who  is 
noted  in  the  whole  of  Yedo  for  his  physical 
strength.  Please  help  us  in  our  work  by  dis- 
tributing the  heiito  in  this  big,  light-wood  chest." 
With  ready  acquiescence  Matahachi  laid  aside 
the  heavy  baggage  on  his  back.  "  This  is  my 
furniture,"  he  said  ;  "  please  keep  it  for  me." 
The  rattling  sound  of  iron  and  china  in  the  chest 
made  those  near  by  wonder  at  the  forethought 
with  which  he  had  made  provision  against  the 
contingency  of  a  fire,  and  by  which  he  had 
been  enabled  to  move  away  at  once  with  all 
his  household  goods. 

Having  safely  stowed  away  his  possessions, 
Matahachi  lifted  the  big,  wooden  chest,  now 
packed  with  hcntc\  and  by  means  of  a  rope  put 
it  on  his  back,  and,  holding  the  big  pole  of  hard 
oak-wood  in  his  right  hand  and  the  paper  flag 
in  his  left,  started  forth  to  the  scene  of  ruin, 
with  one  coolie  to  assist  him. 

As  he  called  out  in  a  loud,  deep  tone  of 
voice  to  announce  the  charity,  the  people  turned 
to  him  in  astonishment  and  soon  came  flocking 
around  him.  The  attendant  coolie,  standing 
behind,  distributed  the  benio  from  the  chest  on 
Matahachi's  back  with  no  inconvenience.  So 
these  two  finished  their  task  in  less  time  than  it 
would  have  taken  five  or  six  men  to  do  it  with 
dreds  in  number,  for  the  preparation  of  lun-  ordinary  methods.  On  their  way  back  to  Kino- 
cheon.     Some  were  preparing  a  quantity  of  rice    kuniya,  when  they  came  to  a  crowded  place 


in  large  iron  pots,  others  were  cutting  up  some 
pickles,  while  a  third  set  of  men  were  wrap- 
ping these  up  in  bamboo  leaves.  Many  bands 
of  coolies  with  their  paper  flags  were  carrying 
out  the  luncheons  in  the  baskets,  while  others 
were  coming  back  with  empty  ones. 

Matahachi,  with  that  big  closet  on  his  back, 
drew  near  to  the  place  and  thundered  out :  "  Is 
this  the  place  where  hands  are  wanted?  "     The 


Matahachi  put  forth  his  staff,  and,  by  pushint 
the  crowd  to  one  side,  inade  his  way  through 
without  any  hindrance. 

In  one  of  those  crowded  places  he  heard  the 
shrieking  cry  of  a  girl.  Forcing  his  way  to  the 
spot,  he  found  a  girl  of  twelve  or  thirteen  years 
of  age  who  could  not  get  up  on  account  of 
being  trodden  down  by  the  crowd.  Being 
naturally  of   a  chivalrous   character,  he   soon 


people  turned,  and  without  giving  any  answer    helped  the  girl  up  and  asked  whether  she  had 
simply  looked  at  one  another  in  astonishment    not  her  parents  with  her. 


at  his  curious  appearance. 

Once  more  he  called  out ;  "  I  'm  one  Ka- 
mada Matahachi ;  I  come  to  assist  your  charity 
work  for  the  rescue  of  the  people." 

The  voice  apparently  penetrated  even  to  the 


She  sobbed,  and  said :  "  We  all  ran  away 
when  the  fire  broke  out,  and  I  became  separated 
from  my  parents! " 

As  he  could  not  leave  her  there,  he  said : 
"  That  cannot  be  helped.     If  you  wander  about 


*  A  sum  about  equal  to  one  dollar. 


>904  1 


OR  FROM  SHARK-BOY  TO  MERCHANT  PRIN'CE. 


1  lO: 


here  you  may  be  trampled  to  death.  I  will 
take  you  to  a  better  place  if  yoa  will  get  into 
my  empty  chest."  So  the  coolie  helped  her  in, 
and  they  hastened  on  to  Fukagawa. 

At  another  time  he  saw  an  old  woman  of 
about  three  score  years,  half  dead,  lying  by  the 
wayside  with  her  dress  partly  burned.  He  felt 
he  could  not  leave  her  behind  in  such  a  stale, 
so  she,  too,  was  put  into  the  bamboo  basket  by 
the  side  of  the  girl. 

Having  got  back  to  Fukagawa  he  said  to 
Chobei :  "I  rescued  these  two  on  the  way  home. 
Give  them  the  treatment  which  is  suited  to  their 
need."  He  handed  them  over  to  the  acting 
master,  who  thanked  Matahachi,  and  thus  ad- 
dressed the  other  bands  of  coolies:  "To  give 
away  tlie  beiifo  alone  does  not  cover  the  whole 
work  of  charity  ;  whenever  any  of  you  are  com- 
ing back  with  empty  chests,  you,  too,  had  better 
bring  people  home,  if  such  help  is  needed  as 
these  two  received."  And  a  cordial  reception 
was  given  to  the  old  woman  as  well  as  to  the 
young  girl. 

During  such  a  fire  there  were  naturally  many 
lost  children  and  aged  persons  who  might  have 
been  trodden  down  under  foot.  Having  under- 
stood Chobei's  instructions,  the  other  bands 
from  that  time  were  sure  to  bring  back  two  or 
three  who  needed  help.  To  any  who  were  thus 
brought  in  Chobei  gave  proper  treatment,  and 
as  he  gave  the  coolies  prizes  they  worked  with 
great  zeal  and  diligence.  Kamada  Matahachi 
went  in  and  out  of  the  fire  ruins  manv  times  a 


day  and  repeated  the  same  charitable  work. 
The  five  or  six  hundred  coolies  did  their  best, 
also,  and,  in  consequence,  at  the  reservoir  there 
was  a  continuous  trooping  out  w-ith  the  bento 
and  trooping  in  of  the  people  ;  and  by  the  night 
of  the  igth  there  were  2800  rescued  persons, 
old  and  young,  all  told,  who  had  been  brought 
to  this  temporary  shelter. 

Even  on  the  night  of  the  19th  there  w\as  no 
sign  of  the  abating  of  the  fire.  The  strong 
northwest  wind  was  still  raging,  and  within  two 
days,  the  Hongo,  Kanda,  Nihonbashi,  Kyo- 
bashi,  and  Shiba  districts  were  all  swept  by  the 
fire.  And  now  the  fire  was  burning  down  Tak- 
anawa  with  such  terrific  force  that  the  very  sea- 
line  seemed  to  recede  before  it.  But  that  night 
the  wind  suddenly  changed  to  the  southeast,  and 
the  fire  turned  backward  and  licked  up  all  the 
houses  on  both  sides  of  the  great  river  Suniida 
and  those  that  hatl  survived  at  first  in  Asakusa 
and  round  about  Yushima.  Then  at  last  it  was 
got  under  control  near  to  Senju  about  noonday 
on  the  20th.  And  since  the  morning  of  the 
i<Sth,  w^ithin  three  days  and  two  nights,  the 
whole  city  of  Yedo  had  been  reduced  to  ashes 
and  as  many  as  108,000  people  were  lost.  It 
was  one  of  the  most  terrible  of  fires. 

Indeed,  such  a  disastrous  fire  had  never 
before  and  has  never  since  occurred  in  Yedo, 
and  even  now  it  is  sadly  referred  to  by  the 
people  as  the  "  Furi.sode-Kwaji" — the  long- 
sleeved  fire — quite  as  often  as  it  is  called  the 
great  fire  of  Hongo-Maruyama. 


( To  be  concluded. ) 


Mary  had  a  little  lamli. 
A  tiny  wooden  \\m. 
Itcoiiidtit  lielf)  but.[ollow  her. 
Cause  Mary  held  Ihe  strino. 


THE  ALLENS'   SILVER   WEDDING. 


By  Mary  Mills  West. 


Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry  Allen  were  a  genial 
pair  of  middle-aged  people,  with  no  children, 
and  lived  in  a  pretty  little  city  of  southern  Ohio. 
Just  at  the  time  the  story  opens  they  were  mak- 
ing plans  for  celebrating  their  silver  wedding, 
early  in  June.  It  was  now  about  two  weeks 
before  the  date;  the  guests  had  been  invited, 
and  most  of  the  arrangements  were  well  under 
way,  when  things  began  to  happen.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Allen  were  sitting  at  the  breakfast-table 
one  lovely  May  morning,  lingering  over  their 
coffee  and  reading  their  letters.  Suddenly  Mrs. 
Allen  looked  up.  "Just  listen  to  this,  Henry," 
she  said.  "Here  is  a  letter  from  Helen;  and 
what  do  you  think  ?  She  is  coming  Thursday 
—  and  this  is  Thursday  !  She  says — "  reading 
from  the  letter : 

"  You  will  not  even  have  time  to  telegraph  me  not  to 
come,  as  I  shall  be  nearly  there  when  this  letter  reaches 
you.  I  discovered  that  some  friends  of  mine  were  going 
West  at  this  time,  and  it  seemed  such  a  pity  to  lose  the 
chance  to  go  with  them  that  I  have  simply  anticipated 
your  invitation  by  two  weeks.  The  train  is  due  at  your 
station  at  4.50  in  the  afternoon.  I  wonder  if  Uncle 
Henry  and  I  will  know  each  other  ? 

"  Hastily  but  most  affectionately  yours, 

"  Helen." 

"  Well,  that  's  all  right,"  said  Mr.  Allen,  in  a 
pleased  tone.  "  If  Helen  comes  now  she  can 
help  you  get  ready  for  the  party." 

Mrs.  Allen  looked  at  him  helplessly.  "If  it 
were  only  any  other  time,"  she  said;  "but  just 
now,  when  I  shall  be  so  busy  every  minute! 
A  fashionable  young  lady  from  New  York  is  not 
exactly  my  idea  of  help.  What  do  you  suppose 
a  girl  who  has  almost  never  known  a  mother 
nor  a  home,  and  who  has  spent  the  greater  part 
ofherlifein  hotels,  knows  about  cooking  and 
cleaning?  I  shall  write  notes  to  two  or  three 
of  the  girls  around,  and  they  will  simply  have  to 
take  Helen  off  my  hands." 

Then,  as  Mr.  Allen  rose  to  go,  she  added : 
"  Please  stop  at  King's  and  have  them  send  up 


a  ])iano-tuner.     I  believe  Helen  is  musical,  and 
that  will  be  one  resource  for  her." 

Helen  Allen  was  the  daughter  of  Mr.  ."lllen's 
only  brother,  a  merchant  of  New  York.  Al- 
though they  saw  but  little  of  each  other,  there 
was  a  warm  affection  between  the  families.  Mr. 
Allen  knew  that  long  before  the  train  came  that 
afternoon  his  capable  wife  would  have  every 
plan  made  for  Helen's  entertainment ;  so  he  de- 
parted with  no  misgiving. 

Scarcely  had  the  front  door  closed  upon  him 
when  the  kitchen  door  opened  to  admit  Han- 
nah, the  round-faced  German  woman  who  had 
served  the  Aliens  faithfully  for  five  years. 
There  were  tears  in  her  eyes  as  she  explained, 
in  broken  English,  that  her  mother  was  very 
sick  and  that  her  brother  had  come  to  take 
her  home. 

Mistress  and  maid  stood  regarding  each  other 
blankly. 

"  What  am  I  to  do  without  you,  Hannah,  just 
now  when  there  is  so  much  to  do  and  Mr. 
Allen's  niece  coming  this  afternoon  from  New 
York?" 

"  Too  bad,"  said  Hannah  ;  "  but  I  must  go  !  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  too  bad  ;  but  we  can't  help  it. 
Of  course  you  will  have  to  go,  Hannah,"  said 
Mrs.  Allen,  resignedly. 

It  was  an  hour  later.     Hannah  had  taken 
her  departure  in  a  farm-wagon,  promising  to 
come  back  at  the  first  possible  moment,  or  to 
send  some  one  in  her  place  if  she  could  n't 
leave  her  mother.     Mrs.   Allen,  arrayed  in   a       ^j 
large  blue-gingham  apron,  was  setting  her  guest-      ^M 
chamber  in  order,  when  the  door-bell  rang.    A       ^1 
blue-coated  messenger-boy  handed  her  a  yellow 
envelop,  and  poking  a  stubby  pencil  at  her, 
remarked  briefly,  "  Sign  here."     A  telegram  on 
top  of  the  other  exciting  events  of  the  morn- 
ing was  sufficiently  upsetting,  regardless  of  its 
contents,  and  Mrs.  Allen  sank  down  on  a  chair 
before  she  opened  it.     This  was  the  message 
which  met  her  eyes  : 


Tllli    AILKNS     SII.VKk    WKDIUNC. 


I  lOS 


Come  at  once.    Susan  very  ill.     Will  meet  2.30  train. 

John  Hi'KRtL. 

Mrs.  Allen  sat  for  a  moment  half  dazed,  .slowly 
forcing  her  mind  to  realize  and  calculate  for 
this  new  emergency.  The  Susan  of  the  mes- 
sage was  her  only  sister,  and  the  Burrels  lived 
in  another  town  about  an  hour's  ride  ilistant ' 
In  spite  of  Mrs.  .Vllen's  fifty  years,  and  dazed  as 
she  was,  she  was  a  woman  of  action.  A  few  min- 
utes before  the  1.30  train  left  town  she  stood  in 
the  station,  bag  in  liand,  talking  to  her  husband. 
"You  must  get  along  somehow,  Henry,  until 
I  find  out  how  long  I  shall  have  to  stay  with 
Susan.  We  shall  undouliledly  have  to  give  u|) 
our  wedding  celebration,  and  of  course,  if  I 
must  stay  away,  Helen  will  have  to  go  back. 
I  hardly  know  how  you  can   manage  for  her 


hours  later,  faced  his  styli.shly  dressed  niece  as 
she  stepped  off  the  train,  and  it  was  not  until 
they  were  driving  home  that  he  could  bring 
himself  to  the  point  of  revealing  to  Helen  all 
the  misfortunes  of  the  day.  He  concluded 
somewhat  mournfully:  "  So  you  see  there  is  no 
one  to  visit  but  me.  There  will  probably  be  no 
wedding  celebration,  and  your  Aunt  Harriet  and 
I  won't  feel  in  tl'.e  least  hurt  if  you  decide  you  'd 
rather  go  back  home." 

The  pretty  girl  turned  on  him  willi  a  flashing 
smile. 

"  Go  home  ?  "  she  exclaimed.  ''  Well,  I  like 
that ;  that  's  a  cool  reception  to  give  your  dear 
niece  who  's  come  all  the  way  from  New  York 
to  see  you  I  "  Then  she  added  a  bit  more  se- 
riously, "  I  assure  you  I  am  not  the  least  afraid, 


•'  *  OF  COURSE  VOf   WILL    H.WE  TO  CO,  HANNAH.'  ' 


even  until  you  hear  from  me.  Take  her  to  the 
hotel  to-night  for  dinner,  and  I  will  let  you 
know  the  first  thing  in  the  morning  just  how 
Susan  is."  At  that  moment  the  train  came  in, 
Mr.  Allen  put  his  wife  on  board,  and  the  two 
said  good-by  with  heavy  hearts. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  it  was  with  consid- 
erable perturbadon  that  Mr.  Allen,  about  three 

Vol..  XXXI.  — 139. 


and  you  must  let  me  try  to  do  the  honors  in 
place  of  poor  aunty." 

"  Honors  are  all  very  well,  my  dear,  but  what 
about  bread  and  butter  ?  " 

"  Surely  we  can  buy  those  if  we  have  to. 
.Anyhow,  I  'm  not  going  back !  What  a  lark 
this  is! — of  course,  all  except  poor  aunty's 
part  in  it,  I  mean.     As  far  as  I  am  concerned. 


1 1 06 


THE    ALLENS     SILVER    WEDDING. 


[Oct. 


Uncle  Henry,  I  think  you  and  I  are  going  to 
have  a  picnic." 

Although  Uncle  Henry  did  not  feel  at  all 
lark-like,  nor  share  his  niece's  views  on  the  sub- 
ject of  picnics,  he  was  considerably  cheered  by 
Helen's  lively  view  of  the  situation. 

"  You  see,  I  am  quite  used  to  getting  along 
by  myself.  Papa  and  I  have  knocked  about 
pretty  much  everywhere,  and  I  have  been  in 
some  queer  places,  I  can  tell  you." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  house, 
and  Helen  sprang  down  with  a  cry  of  pleasure 
at  the  sight  of  the  square  old-fashioned  cot- 
tage, shaded  on  one  side  by  a  group  of  noble 
elms,  with  flowers  and  shrubbery  in  front.  Mr. 
Allen  gave  Helen  the  key,  and  while  he  was  tak- 
ing the  horse  around  to  the  barn,  she  let  herself 
in,  found  the  room  evidently  intended  for  her, 
and  took  possession  at  once.  There  was  a 
flush  of  e.^ccitement  on  her  face  and  an  unusual 
sparkle  in  her  eyes.  "  What  a  chance  for  me 
this  is  !  "  she  said  to  herself  in  the  looking-glass. 
"  I  could  n't  possibly  have  planned  it  better  if 
I  had  tried.  " 

She  took  off  her  hat  and  jacket  and  went 
downstairs.  Her  uncle  was  just  coming  in. 
"  I  'm  going  out  to  find  something  for  our  sup- 
per," he  said.  "  Probably  there  are  some  things 
in  the  pantry,  and  I  guess  I  know  enough  to 
make  tea."  He  spoke  as  if  making  an  effort  to 
cheer  her. 

Something  in  her  gray-haired  uncle's  real 
anxiety  over  the  situation  touched  Helen,  and 
she  reached  up  to  kiss  him  lightly  on  the  cheek. 
"  Now  don't  you  worry  one  bit  over  this  thing, 
uncle  dear.  We  are  going  to  get  along  finely, 
and  have  just  as  good  a  time  as  we  can  with 
Aunt  Harriet  away  and  in  trouble." 

The  events  of  the  next  two  weeks  still  remain 
in  Mr.  Allen's  mind  as  a  blur.  On  the  one 
hand,  he  was  daily  receiving  bulletins  from  his 
wife  full  of  directions  for  recalling  the  invita- 
tions for  the  wedding  and  unmaking  the  plans 
for  that  great  day.  It  seemed  that  Mrs.  Bur- 
rel,  though  slowly  improving,  would  need  Mrs. 
.\llen's  careful  nursing  for  another  week  or  more, 
and  then  it  would  be  too  late  to  do  anything, 
especially  as  neither  Hannah  nor  her  promised 
substitute  had  appeared  on  the  scene.  On  the 
other  hand,  there  was  a  tall,  sweet-faced  girl,  ap- 


|iarently  perfectly  at  home  in  the  disorganized 
household,  who  talked  a  good  deal,  laughed  a 
good  deal,  and  sang  like  a  lark  through  the 
empty  house.  She  also  did  a  great  many  other 
things,  to  the  increasing  bewilderment  of  poor 
Uncle  Henry,  who  was  under  strict  injunctions 
not  to  "worry  Aunt  Harriet"  with  any  of  the 
details  of  their  experiences. 

Mrs.  Allen  was  full  of  anxious  inquiries  as  to 
how  they  were  getting  along,  how  they  lived, 
where  they  took  their  meals,  and  was  n't  Helen 
bored  to  death,  etc.,  and  she  was  surprised  at 
the  meagerness  of  her  husband's  replies,  but 
concluded  that  he  was  trying  to  spare  her  any 
further  anxiety.  He  wrote  vaguely  :  "  We  are 
getting  on  famously  ;  don't  worry  a  bit  about 
us.  Helen  is  having  a  fine  time.  We  shall 
expect  you  home  on  the  afternoon  of  the  6th. 
If  we  cannot  have  a  party,  we  '11  dine  together 
on  that  day,  even  if  it  is  at  the  Laurel  House." 

The  dusk  of  the  soft  June  evening  was  set- 
tling down  as  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Allen  drove  up 
from  the  station  through  the  streets  of  the 
pretty  little  city.  Mrs.  Allen  looked  a  little 
worn  after  her  long  siege  of  nursing,  but  the 
knowledge  that  the  dear  sister  was  safely  started 
on  her  long  road  to  health  filled  her  heart  with 
contentment. 

"  Now  that  Susan  is  nearly  well  again,  and 
you  and  Helen  have  survived  somehow,  I  feel 
as  if  I  ought  not  to  complain  of  anything  ;  but 
I  will  confess  to  you,  Henry,  that  it  has  been  a 
great  deal  to  me  to  give  up  our  celebration. 
And  to  think  that  we  cannot  have  even  a  com- 
fortable dinner  at  home  to-day  of  all  days  !  It 
is  too  bad  !  "  They  were  just  in  front  of  the 
hotel  where  Mrs.  Allen  pictured  them  as  dining 
when  she  spoke. 

"  Is  Helen  here  already  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,"  replied  Mr.  Allen.  "  You  see.  Helen 
thought  perhaps  you  'd  rather  have  something 
at  home  than  come  down  here  to-day,  so  I 
think  she  has  bought  some  things  for  our 
supper." 

There  was  a  suppressed  excitement  in  her 
husband's  manner  that  did  not  escape  Mrs. 
Allen ;  but  by  this  time  they  had  reached 
home,  and  she  said  nothing.  It  was  quite  dark, 
and  as  she  opened  the  door,  Helen,  with  out- 


I9041 


TlIK    ALLEN'S     SILVKR    WEDDINC;. 


I  lo; 


Stretched  arms,  ran  to  greet  her.  "  Welcome  On  the  bed  lay  a  beautiful  lavender  muslin 
home,  aunty  dear!  "she  said,  and,  throwing  open  dress,  all  frills  and  laces,  unmistakably  suggest- 
the  parlor  door,  led  Mrs.  Allen  into  the  room,  ing  a  festivity,  and  everything  necessary  to  go 
which  was  softly  lighted  and  odorous  with  ro.ses.  with  it  ready  at  hand.  Poor  bewildered  Aunt 
Helen  did  not  give  her  much  time  to  look  Harriet  put  herself,  as  best  she  could,  into  this 
about,  but  took  hold  of  her  arm.    "  Come  along,     fme  array,  finishing  just  as  her  husband  came  for 

her.  He  oftered  her  his 
arm  with  exaggerated 
solemnity.  '■  Gracious, 
Henry," said  Mrs.  Allen, 
"how  grand  we  are! 
Are  we  entertaining  roy- 
alty to-night?" 

"  No ;  royalty  is  en- 
tertaining," he  replied, 
as  he  ki.ssed  his  queen. 
She  gave  a  gas])  of  as- 
tonishment as  the  dining- 
room  door  opened  be- 
fore them.  There  twenty 
of  her  dearest  and  best 
friends  stood  around  a 
longdinner-table, spread 
with  snowy  linen  and 
decorated  with  flowers, 
while  the  sideboard  glit- 
tered with  silver  gifts 
which  these  same  friends 
had  brought.  Helen, 
who  seemed  to  be  the 
commander-in-chief,  es- 
corted her  aunt  to  her 
place  at  the  table,  then 
vanished  through  the 
kitchen  door.  The  din- 
ner which  followed,  in 
one  delicious  course 
after  another,  was  served 
by  Helen,  with  the  help  of  two  other  young  girls, 
all  in  dainty  white  dresses,  and  cc>m])leted  Mrs. 
Allen's  mystification. 

Finally,  when  she  could  contain  herself  no 


"  *  GO   HOME?     SHE   EXCLAIMED.      'WELL,   I   LIKE  THAT! 

now,  aunty,"  she  said.  "  \\n\  have  just  time  to 
get  into  your  best  dress  before  dinner  will  be 
ready." 

"  Dinner!"  gasped  Mrs.  Allen,  as  her  vigor- 


ous young  relative  hurried  her,  jierforce,  to  her    longer,  she  raised  her  hand  and  made  them  lis- 


bedroom.     "  Where  are  you  going  to  get  any 
dinner  ?  " 

"  Here,  to  be  sure,"  said  Helen,  laughing. 
"  Where  should  a  happy  family  like  this  dine, 
if  not  at  home  ?  But  don't  sto])  to  ask  questions 
now.  aunty ;  just  please  change  your  dress. 
Dinner  will  be  served  in  twenty  minutes." 


ten  as  she  said:  "  Now  it  may  be  all  right  to 
take  advantage  this  way  of  a  poor  old  woman 
in  her  absence ;  but  what  /  want  to  know  is, 
who  cooked  this  dinner  ?  " 

Uncle  Henry  rose  from  his  chair,  and, speak- 
ing with  great  impre.s.siveness, —  with  a  sweep 
of  his  hand  toward  Helen,  who,  with  her  friends, 


iioS 


THE    ALLEXS     SILVER    WEDDING. 


was  enjoying  the  scene  from  a  corner  of  the 
dining-room, —  said: 

"  I  have  the  distinguished  honor,  madam,  as 
well  as  the  very  great  pleasure,  of  presenting 
to  you  your  new  cook  and  housekeeper,  Miss 
Allen  of  New  York.     Long  may  she  wave ! " 

A  burst  of  laughter  followed,  the  guests  rising 
with  cheers  in  response  to  the  toast,  while  Helen, 
with  flushing  cheeks  and  laughing  eyes,  made  a 
low  curtsy  to  her  aunt;  then  she  ran  into  the 
parlor,  and  immediately  the  house  rang  with  the 


"  You  are  two  noble  conspirators,"  she  said, 
"  and  it  was  a  lovely  surprise.  I  can't  imagine 
how  you  did  it;  and  I  should  like  to  know 
where  you  learned  to  do  all  these  things,  Helen." 

"  Well,  you  see  it  's  this  way,  aunty.  Papa 
has  been  away  a  good  deal  for  a  year  or  two, 
and  I  have  amused  myself  by  going  to  cooking- 
school,  a  school  of  housekeeping,  a  chafing- 
dish  class,  and  some  sewing  classes.  But  I 
never  had  a  chance  to  practise  my  knowledge 
before,  and  when  I  found  this  opportunity  here 


f 


\ 


'  LONG    MAV   SHE    WAVE  ! 


Strains  of  Mendelssohn's  "  Wedding  March." 
Promptly  the  whole  company  marched  to  the 
parlor,  where  Helen  had  changed  to  a  bur- 
lesque rendering  of"  Oh,  Promise  Me," 

It  was  not  until  after  the  happy  evening  was 
spent,  and  the  guests  gone,  that  Mrs.  Allen 
reallv  cornered  her  niece  and  her  husband. 


waiting  for  me,  I  was  delighted;  and  if  }ou  are 
going  to  make  me  stop  doing  things  now  that 
you  've  got  home,  I  shall  wish  that  you  had  n't 
come." 

"  My  dear  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Allen,  "  it  is  like 
a  fairy-tale.  I  have  quite  made  up  my  mind 
to  write  to  your  father  to-morrow  and  make 
immediate  arrangements  to  adopt  you." 


THE 
MOUNTAIN 


I. 


AND 
rilii    VALLEY. 

.11. 


Have    you    ever   heard,   my    laddie,    of  that  Bur  sometimes  a  man  more  venturesome  and 

wondrous  mountain-peak  plucky  than  the  rest 

On  which  we  all  would  like  to  live,  which  even  Will  climb  through  rocks  and  bramble  till  he 

children  seek  ?  stands  upon  the  crest. 

It  has  reared  its  lofty  summit  ever  since  tlie  Here  he  pauses,  filled  with  wonder  as  he  gazes 

world  began.  far  and  wide 

Vou  will  know  it  when   I  name  it — 't  is  the  .^t  the  beauty  u(  the  buildings,  at  the  wealth 

Mountain  of  the  Can.  on  every  side. 

It  lies  beyond  the  valley  where  so  many  people  For   behold !   the   grandest   castles   raise    their 

dwell  turrets  to  the  sky  ; 

(The  Valley  of  the  Can't,  it  's  called.     \\'e  all  Xoblest  bridges  span  the  waters  that  go  swiftly 

know  //hit  place  well) ;  tumbling  by. 

-Vnd  the  pathway  is  so  rugged  leading  up  the  Sweetest  flowers  fill  the  gardens  of  each  stately 

mountain-side  palace  home ; 

That  few  there  are  who  reach  the  top  to  dwell  .Vnil  Happiness  and  Honor  dwell  beneath  each 

there  satisfied.  gilded  dome. 


II. 


IV. 


One  may  start  out  some  fine  morning  when  Here  dwell  artists,  poets,  statesmen  —  men  of 

the  sun  is  shining  bright,  letters  and  renown. 

Saying,  "  Pooh  !     That  path    is   easy.     I   will  Who  by  honest  toil  and  patience  have  achieved 

reach  the  top  by  night."  a  victor's  crown. 

But  by  noon   the   storm-clouds  gather,  and  a  Here  they  live  and    learn   and    study,  anil  in 

mist  obscures  the  way,  daily  knowledge  grow, 

.\nd  he  stumbles  over  boulders,  and  falters  in  While  their  brethren  in   the  valley  pay  them 

dismay.  homage  from  below  ; 

He   is  weary  and  discouraged  ;  he  begins  to  Pay  them  homage  —  yet  forgetting  that  should 

puft'  and  pant ;  they,  too,  persevere 

So  he  turns  his  footsteps  backward  toward  the  They  might  some  day  reach  the  summit  with 

Valley  of  the  Can't.  the  men  whom  they  revere. 

Here  he  meets  again  the  neighbors  whom  he  Forgetting  that  each  lesson  learned,  each  slight 

thought  to  leave  behind  ;  accomplishment, 

And  henceforth  dwells  among  them,  with  the  Brings  them  on  just  one  step   farther   up  the 

lame  and  halt  and  blind.  mountain's  steep  ascent. 

Now,  my  laddie,  where  will  rw/  dwell  when  you  grow  to  be  a. man  — 
In  the  Valley  of  the  Can't  or  on  the  Mountain  of  the  Can  ? 

Gtrtruae  Morton. 
1x09 


ROXY  — TRAINMAN. 

(A    True  Story.) 


Bv  EvELYX  Nichols  Kerr. 


Late  in  the  afternoon  of  a  hot  August  day  in 
the  summer  of  1901.  a  lady  was  seen  quickly 
walking  down  one  of  the  city  streets  toward  the 
ferry.  She  looked  at  her  watch  and  saw  that 
she  had  not  a  moment  to  spare.  She  quick- 
ened her  step ;  only  one  more  block  and  she 
could  rest  from  the  terrible  heat :  but  just  as 
she  started  to  cross  the  last  street,  a  pitiful  sight 


met  her  eyes.  Standing  right  before  her  was  a 
miserable  little  dog.  He  was  weak  and  ema- 
ciated, but  the  pleading  look  in  his  brown  eyes 
was  not  to  be  resisted. 

"  Why,  you  poor  little  thing !  "  she  said  kindly, 
stooping  down  and  patting  him  ;  and  the  know- 
ing look  in  his  intelligent  eyes  deepened. 

"  It  's  hot,  poor  fellow,  is  n't  it  ?  "  she  said 
over  her  shoulder,  as  she  hurried  on.  To  her 
surprise,  she  saw  the  dog  was  following.  His 
tail  was  waving  feebly,  and  the  tired  little  crea- 


ture was  doing  his  best  to  keep  up  with  her 
quick  steps. 

She  paused  irresolute  for  one  moment.  Just 
then  a  gong  soimded,  and  she  ran  a  few  steps, 
.^.s  she  stepped  on  the  boat  she  turned  to  look 
for  the  dog.  There  he  was  close  at  her  heels, 
a  picture  of  wretchedness,  but  with  the  kindliest, 
most  expectant  look  in  his  golden-brown  eyes. 

Everybody  smiled,  and  the  dog  stayed  close 
to  his  new  friend  till  the  boat  drew  into  its  slip. 
And  soon  the  two  friends  were  in  the  train  com- 
fortably seated  for  their  journey. 

He  soon  settled  himself  contentedly  on  the 
seat,  and  after  a  while  slid  to  the  floor,  where  he 
slept  soundly.  The  lady  herself,  being  very  tired, 
also  took  a  little  nap. 

"  Conductor,  KiJiere  is  tliat  dog?  "  A  startled 
voice  asked  the  question  as  the  train  drew  out 
of  Garden  City. 

"  I  don't  know,  madam.  I  did  n't  see  him 
get  off.  I  '11  see  if  he  's  on  the  train";  and  the 
conductor  moved  on. 

But  he  was  not  on  the  train  ;  and  tliat  was 
the  last  his  first  friend,. saw  of  him. 

Lurid  gleams  of  lightning  swept  a  threaten- 
ing sky,  and  a  deep  rumble  came  from  the 
northwest.  Then  a  deeper  rumble  came  from  the 
north,  and  between  the  two  sounds  was  a  queer 
little  noise  that  the  man  at  the  telegraph  key 
had  not  yet  noticed.  Then  a  great  flash  of  light 
swept  in  at  the  window,  making  the  man  start 
and  push  back  his  chair ;  and  after  the  roar  of 
thunder  died  away,  he  turned  his  head  to  listen 
to  something  else.  It  was  the  queer  little  noise 
again,  but  louder  than  before,  and  now  there 
was  a  note  of  terror  in  it.  A'i-v/' .'  Yap-yap .' 
it  went  appealingly. 

"  I  declare  !  What  's  that  ?  "  said  the  man, 
and  he  opened  the  office  door. 


KoXV 


TRAINMAN. 


I  I  I  I 


"  Well !  where  on  earih  did  you  come  from  ?  " 
he  exclaimed,  as  a  frightened,  dilapidated  yel- 
low dog  wabbled  into  the  room. 

The  dog  gave  him  a  look  of  apology  and  a 
wag  of  the  tail  which  said  very  plainly :  •'  Yes, 
thank  you,  I  will  come  in.  There  is  going  to 
be  a  great  storm,  and  1  will  keep  you  com- 
pany " ;  and  he  walked  across  the  room,  and 
seated  himself  close  up  against  the  man's  legs. 

Now  the  rain  began  to  come  down  in  tor- 
rents. The  lightning  appeared  to  split  the 
heavens.  The  thunder  cra.shod  like  cannon. 
At  every  boom  of  thunder  the  dog  drew  closer, 
ra])ping  his  tail  feebly  on  the  floor,  and  turning 
up  his  muzzle  aftectionately  to  the  man. 

The  trees  swayed  and  bent  as  if  they  would 
break  in  two. 

"  Ever  seen  the  like  of  it  before,  old  man  ?  " 

The  dog  looked  at  him  with  level  eyelids. 

"  So  you  thought  you  'd  come  in  and  take 
care  of  me,  did  you  ?  " 

The  dog  moved  as  close  as  possible,  rapping 
his  tail  audibly.  His  honest  brown  eves  shone 
brightly. 

"  Well,  I  never  like  to  be  alone  in  a  storm 
like  this  one.  But,  bless  me,  I  've  never  seen  a 
dog  talk  with  his  eyes  as  you  do.  Where  did 
you  come  from,  anyhow  ?  " 

The  dog  lowered  his  head. 

"Well,  never  mind;  we  won't  talk  about 
that  if  you  don't  want  to." 

Up  came  the  head,  and  there  was  another 
apjireciative  rap  of  the  tail. 

When  the  storm  cleared,  these  two  knew  eacli 
other  pretty  well.  That  night  the  dog  followed 
the  man  to  his  home,  and  for  many  days  kept 
close  to  his  heels. 

Then  one  day  he  was  missing ;  and  the  next 
day  the  story  was  told  of  a  yellow  dog  that  got 
on  the  train  by  himself  and  took  a  short  journey 
to  the  old  town  of  Hempstead.  It  interested 
the  conductor  of  that  train  to  see  a  dog  travel- 
ing alone  —  so  he  spoke  to  him  and  patted  his 
yellow  head;  and  the  next  morning,  when  he  left 
liis  home  in  Hempstead  to  go  to  his  regular  train, 
lie  was  surprised  to  find  the  dog  waiting  for  him 
on  his  door-step ;  and  nearly  every  night  found 
him  at  the  conductor's  door,  though  occasion- 
ally he  spent  a  night  with  his  Garden  City  friend. 

"  This  dog  must  have  a  name,"  the  conduc- 


tor said  one  night.  "  I  never  saw  a  brighter, 
kinder-hearted  dog,  and  I  believe  I  '11  call  him 
'  Roxy,'  after  that  puppy  the  brakeman  gave 
me  once.  Roxy,  man,  get  up  and  make  a  bow. 
You  've  got  a  name  now."  Roxy  got  up  and 
shook  himself  instead  of  making  a  bow,  which 
seemed  to  answer  just  as  well ;  then  he  tipped 
his  head  on  one  side,  and  looked  at  his  friend 
with  bright  eyes,  wagging  his  tail  joyously. 

"  So  you  like  your  name,  do  you  ?  "  the  con- 
ductor continued.  "  That  's  good.  It  's  hard 
to  be  called  by  a  name  you  don't  like.  Well, 
it  's  wonderful  what  you  know,  and  we  won't 
say  anything  more  about  that ;  but,"  he  went 
on,  "you've  got  to  have  a  dog  license,  and  a 
collar   with   your  name   on  it,  so  people  will 


m^    KAILWAV    I  Kli^.NLis 


know  who  you  are.     I  '11   speak   to  the  boys 
about  it." 

For  two  months  Roxy  traveled  every  day  be- 
tween Garden  City  and  Hempstead.  He  would 
appear  on  the  station  ])latform  at  just  the  right 
time  to  take  a  train,  and  always  seemed  to  know 
the  exact  time  scheduled  for  the  coming  in  or 
going  out  of  the  various  trains.    Where  he  kept 


I  I  12 


ROXV 


-TRAINMAN. 


[Oct. 


his  time-table  nobody  knew,  but  he  evidently 
had  one. 

One  day  he  was  missing,  and  there  was  con- 
sternation among  the  men,  who  had  grown 
fond  of  him.  For  two  days  nothing  was  heard 
of  him,  and  grave  looks  were  exchanged  when 
the  question  was  asked  many  times  during 
those  two  days  :  "  Seen  anything  of  Roxy  ?  " 

Then  came  good  news,  for  it  was  learned  he 


of  going  on  the  engineer's  side,  where,  of  course, 
he  might  be  in  the  way, —  with  two  paws  firmly 
braced  on  the  sill,  he  watched  the  country  as 
the  train  swept  by. 

Life  now  flowed  along  smoothly  for  Roxy. 
The  conductor  kept  his  word  and  spoke  to  the 
"  boys,"  and  the  result  was  a  handsome  nickel- 
plated  collar  made  to  order  for  the  dog.     On 


KOXY  S    FAVORITE    l-LACIi    IN    THt    CAB    UF    THE   LOCOMOTIVE. 


had  extended  his  travels.  He  had  gone  as  far  as 
Long  Island  City,  stayed  all  night,  taken  several 
rides  on  the  ferry-boat  next  morning,  gone  into 
the  dock  and  played  aroimd  the  engines,  then 
back  to  the  station,  and  from  the  many  trains 
standing  there  had  picked  out  the  Hempstead 
train  and  ridden  gaily  home  on  the  engine. 
How  glad  the  men  were  to  see  him  at  that  end 
of  the  line !  This  was  his  first  ride  on  the 
engine,  and  it  soon  became  his  favorite  place. 
Sometimes  he  would  ride  in  the  passenger- 
coach  ;  occasionally  he  rode  in  the  baggage- 
car  :  but  more  often  he  was  found  in  his  favor- 
ite place,  the  engine.  There,  perched  on  the 
seat  on  the  fireman's  side, —  he  never  thought 


one  side  of  the  collar  is  a  brass  plate  bearing 
the  single  word  in  large  letters,  TRAL\AL\N. 
On  the  other  side  is  a  similar  plate  on  which 
are  engraved  the  words  : 

RAILROAD  KOXV, 

Garden  City,  L.  I., 

Presented  by  the  boys  of  the 

L.  I.  R.  R.  Branch  V.  M.  C.  A. 

From  the  collar  hangs  his  license  tag,  which 
protects  him  from  the  official  dog-catcher,  allow- 
ing him  to  wander  safely  at  the  promptings  of 
his  will. 

When  the  fund  was  subscribed  for  the  collar, 
it  was  decided  that  Roxv  should  have  a  blanket 


I 


Ki  iXV 


TRAINMAN. 


III3 


as  well,  and  his  friends  responded  so  generously 
that  after  these  two  necessaries  were  provided, 
enough  remained  over  to  start  Roxy's  first  bank 
account.  A  dog  of  such  strong  character  and 
independence,  his  many  friends  argued,  should 
be  able  to  pay  his  own  dog  tax  and  doctor's 
bills.  Wiicn  the  bank  account  was  last  heard 
from  it  amounted  to  sixteen  dollars. 

As  Roxy  extended  his  travels,  he  learned 
to  know  where  his  different  friends  lived,  and 
it  may  be  truthfully  said  that  there  is  probably 
no  dog  in  the  world  who  is  welcomed  into  as 
many  homes  as  Roxy.  He  now  travels  every- 
where on  Long  Island  where  there  are  railroad 
tracks ;  he  knows  where  all  the  railroad  men 
live  in  different  Long  Island  villages,  and  when 
he  has  the  time  he  looks  up  their  homes  and 
calls  on  them.  Sometimes  he  sleeps  in  a  sta- 
tion, but  oftener  he  is  put  up  for  the  night  by 
one  of  his  railroad  friends. 

Roxy  is  a  great  respecter  of  persons.  He 
knows  every  trainman  and  expressman  on  the 
Long  Island  Railroad,  and  his  preference  for 
his  friends  who  wear  the  blue  uniform  is  so 
marked  that  he  will  seldom  make  friends  with 
any  one  else. 

His  meals  are  served  to  him  promptly  and 
abundantly  in  the  Young  Men's  Christian  Asso- 
ciation rooms  at  Long  Island  City,  and  when 
taking  his  long  trips  his  many  friends  see  that  he 
is  properly  cared  for.  His  firm,  round  body, 
bright  eyes,  and  glossy  coat  testify  to  his  fine 
physical  condition. 

One  morning,  as  he  came  trotting  down  the 
platform  at  Long  Island  City,  he  discovered  a 
car  that  was  new  to  him.  It  looked  so  inviting 
he  thought  he  would  like  to  ride  in  it,  and  he 
boarded  it  at  once.  A  little  later,  special  car 
"  A  "  went  out  on  the  road  with  a  party  of  the 
company's  officers  on  board.  It  was  not  long 
before  Roxy  was  discovered  by  an  indignant 
jtorter.  The  dog  seemed  perfectly  at  home, 
but  the  porter,  resenting  the  intrusion,  prepared 
to  put  him  off.  As  soon  as  his  presence  was 
known  to  the  company,  the  officials  gave  or- 
ders that  he  should  remain,  and  they  made 
much  of  him.  After  luncheon  he  was  missed. 
He  could  not  be  found,  and  it  was  feared  that 
the  porter,  still  indignant  at  the  dog's  presence, 
had  disobeyed  orders.     He  was  called  up. 

Vol.  XXXI.— 140. 


"  Do  you  know  where  Roxy  is  ? "  sternly 
asked  the  superintendent  of  the  road. 

"  No,  sah  !  "  was  the  answer. 

"  Go  look  for  him,"  was  the  command. 

The  porter  disappeared,  but  in  a  moment  re- 
turned, indignation  written  on  eveiy  feature 

"  If  the  gentlemen  will  step  this  way  —  "  he 
commenced,  but  that  was  as  far  as  he  got;  he 
could  say  no  more  in  his  wrath. 

The  men  quickly  followed  him,  and  there  in 
the  state-room,  contentedly  curled  up  in  the  cen- 
ter of  the  snow-white  counterpane  covering  the 
bed,  lay  Roxy,  quietly  sleeping.  The  porter's 
indignation  knew  no  bounds,  and  he  stretched 
forth  his  dark  hands  to  seize  the  dog,  when  the 
general  superintendent  quietly  gave  orders  that 
he  should  not  be  disturbed,  and  Roxy  slept 
peacefully  on  and  finished  his  nap  in  comfort. 

Roxy  has  one  enemy,  the  automobile,  toward 
which  he  has  shown  the  greatest  hatred  and 
jealousy.  Whenever  he  sees  one  approaching 
or  leaving  a  station,  he  rushes  excitedly  at  it, 
giving  vent  in  good  honest  dog  language  to  his 
views  of  the  new  invention. 

One  bright  day  in  June  a  sad  thing  happened. 
He  was  in  Long  Island  City,  on  his  way  to  the 
Young  Men's  Christian  Association  rooms  for  a 
good  meal,  when  he  saw  an  automobile  ap- 
proaching from  the  ferry.  He  stopped  short, 
and  his  back  was  at  once  a  mass  of  bristles. 
Then  he  commenced  to  bark  and  run  at  the 
machine.  It  was  all  over  in  a  minute  —  the 
merciless  machine  passed  over  the  dog's  small 
body,  and  it  was  believed  that  he  was  crushed 
to  death.  From  every  side  his  friends  came 
running.  He  was  lifted  tenderly  and  carried  into 
the  Branch,  where  a  bed  was  quickly  made  for 
him. 

"  Boys,  it  's  all  over  with  Roxy  !  "  said  a  con- 
ductor, blowing  his  nose  very  hard  and  turning 
away  from  the  suftering  dog. 

And,  indeed,  it  did  look  that  way.  No  one 
had  hopes  of  his  recovery;  but  many  hands 
ministered  to  him,  dressing  his  wounds  and 
trying  to  give  him  comfort  in  his  pain,  and, 
notwithstanding  his  great  agony,  Roxy  lifted 
his  muzzle  adoringly  to  his  friends  of  the  blue 
uniform,  licking  their  hands  and  wagging  his 
tail  with  all  the  little  strength  he  had  left. 


1 1 14 


ROXY TRAINMAN. 


After  careful  nursing,  the  good  news  went  out 
that  Roxy  was  doing  well ;  and  after  a  time  he 
appeared  limping  on  three  legs,  but  just  as 
bright  and  independent  as  ever.  Something, 
however,  was  wrong  with  one  of  his  shoulders, 
but  this  did  not  keep  him  from  resuming  his 
travels. 

One  day,  as  he  limped  across  a  station  plat- 
form, a  lady  stepped  up  to  an  official,  and  asked 


the  cause  of  his  lameness.  When  she  was  in- 
formed, she  handed  the  man  her  card,  saying  : 
"  I  wish  you  would  send  him  to  my  surgeon  in 
town.  He  will  fix  him  up  all  right,  and  Roxy 
will  have  no  doctor's  bill  to  pay." 

And  now  Roxy,  owner  of  many  friends,  trots 
as  strongly  on  his  four  legs  as  he  did  before 
that  eventful  day  in  June ;  and  —  would  you 
believe  it,  he  still  barks  at  automobiles. 


By  L.  E.  R. 


My  old  uncle  Timothy  Tittlebat 
Went  one  evening  out  for  a  ride ; 

Scared  'most  into  fits  by  a  little  bat. 
Took  to  his  bed,  and  lived  till  he  died. 


Poor  old  Timothy  !  poor  old  Tittlebat ! 

Poor  old  gentleman  —  sorry  for  him  ! 
Naughty,  naughty,  naughty  little  bat. 

Flitting  about  when   ^  the  daylight 's  dim 


My  old  uncle  Marmaduke  Merrywig 
Begged  the  barber  to  curl  his  hair 

When  he  found  't  was  only  a  periwig 
Barber  fled  in  a  dark  despair. 


Poor  old  Marmaduke!  poor  old  Merrywig! 

Poor  old  barber — sorry  for  you  ! 
Pitiful  plight,  to  be  piqued  by  a  periwig  — 

Horrorful,  sorrorful  tale  (if  true  !). 


THE    BICVCLE-TRACK. 


SECOND    SIGHT   ON   A    BICYCLE-TRACK. 


Bv   T.   C.   Beard. 


The  rule  that  governs  this  little  circular 
bicycle-track  is  a  very  simple  one,  and  yet  there 
seems  to  be  a  mystery  about  the  way  in  which 
it  works.  Let  the  one  wlio  plays  the  trick,  and 
whom  we  will  call  the  station-master,  go  away 
to  some  place  from  which  he  cannot  see  what 
you  do.  Start  an  imaginary  bicycle  along  the 
track  at  any  station  marked  by  a  flag.  Be- 
ginning with  the  number  on  the  disk  oppo- 
site the  flag  at  which  you  start  (say  8  at  the 


bottom  of  the  illustration),  and  calling  the  ne.xt 
station  "  nine  "  (even  though  it  is  marked  3, 
if  you  are  counting  to  the  right),  count  the  sta- 
tions as  you  pass  them.  Go  as  far  as  you 
please,  then  return,  stopping  when  the  number 
of  flags  you  have  passed  coming  back  reaches 
the  same  number  as  that  at  which  you  stopped 
in  going  forward,  and  tlje  station-master,  on 
being  shown  the  station  from  which  and  the 
direction   in  which    you  started,  will   be  able 


I  I  i6 


SECOND    SIGHT    ON    A    BICYCLE-TRACK. 


to  tell  you  where  you  finished  your  return 
journey. 

Begin,  for  instance,  at  station  8,  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  illustration ;  call  this  station  (as  it 
is  marked)  "  eight,"  the  next,  say  to  the  right, 
"  nine  "  (never  mind  what  it  is  marked),  and  so 
on  until  you  have  gone  forward  as  far  as  you 
care  to,  say  until  you  have  counted  to  fifteen, 
that  is,  at  the  disk  5  at  the  right,  near  the  top. 
Now  return,  calling  the  flag  from  which  you 
start  back  again  "  one,"  and  reckoning  each 
flag  you  pass  as  an  additional  one  until  you 
have  counted  a  number  equal  to  that  at  which 
you  left  off  in  going  forward  (namely  fifteen), 
and  the  station-master  will  astonish  you  by  tell- 
ing you  that  your  course  is  finished  at  the  disk 
in  this  case  marked  7,  at  the  upper  left. 

Try  it  and  see.  The  secret  of  the  trick  is  as 
simple  as  the  rule  that  governs  the  track.  All 
the  station-master,  therefore,  has  to  do  is  to 


count  along,  in  an  opposite  direction  from  that 
in  which  you  say  you  started  off,  as  many  sta- 
tions as  are  indicated  by  the  number  on  the 
disk  opposite  the  flag  at  which  you  began  your 
course — include  that  initial  station  in  the  count. 
If  there  were  only  one  starting-point  the 
finish  would  always  occur  at  the  same  station  ; 
but  as  any  starting-station  at  will  may  be  used, 
the  trick  may  be  made  to  appear  more  con- 
fusing. If,  instead  of  eight  or  any  other  number, 
you  should  call  the  station  from  which  you 
start  "one,"  and  count  forward  any  number, 
and  the  same  number  back  again,  you  would, 
of  course,  bring  up  at  your  starting-point ; 
whereas  if  you  call  the  station  from  which  you 
begin  your  run  "  eight  "  (or  any  other  number, 
depending  upon  the  station  from  which  you 
choose  to  start),  you  will  pass  it  on  yoiu-  return, 
and  go  beyond  it  eight  or  as  many  stations  as 
will  equal  the  number  of  your  starting-point. 


■'T!/'//!/! 


'^}m 


f 

UNCLE    'RASTUS    (FORGETTING    HOW    LONG    HIS    COAT   IS)  :    "  1    DECLARE,    I    'SE   GITTIN* 
SO   STIFF    WITH    RHEUMATIZ    DAT    I    CAIn'T    STAN'    UP    STRAIGHT!" 


LUMP  O 
OULDD 


Bv  George   ErHELiiERX  Walsh. 


A  CENTURY  ago  most  of  the  labor  of  the 
world  was  performed  by  the  hard  work  of  man 
and  beast,  and  both,  toiling  day  after  day  in 
the  fields,  could  just  about  keep  sufficient  food 
ahead  to  prevent  famines  and  general  starva- 
tion ;  but  to-day  machinery'  performs  most  of 
the  world's  work. 

Originally  man-power  did  the  world's  work  ; 
then  horse-power  was  employed  ;  and  now  ma- 
chinery, driven  by  steam,  directly  or  by  convert- 
ing its  energy  into  electricity,  compressed  air, 
or  other  sources  of  power,  is  doing  the  greater 
part  of  the  hard  work  of  man  and  beast. 

What  is  the  relative  amount  of  work  that  a 
man  can  do  in  comparison  with  a  horse  or  ma- 
chinery ?  At  his  very  best  the  strongest  man 
stands  in  pretty  poor  comparison,  even  with  a 
horse,  for  hard,  continuous  labor.  He  might 
perform  for  a  few  minutes  one  half  horse-power 
of  work,  but  to  keep  this  up  for  any  great 
length  of  time  would  be  impossible. 

Thus  the  gain  in  forcing  horses  to  do  a  part 
of  the  world's  work  was  enormous.  One  horse 
could  exhaust  a  dozen  men  in  a  single  day,  and 
still  be  ready  for  the  next  day's  work. 

The  measurement  of  a  horse's  power  for  work 
was  first  ascertained  by  AVatt,  the  father  of  the 
modern  steam-engine,  and  he  expressed  this  in 
terms  that  hold  to-day.  He  experimented  with 
a  great  number  of  heavy  brewery-horses  to 
satisfy  himself  that  his  unit  of  measurement  for 
work  was  correct.  After  many  trials  he  ascer- 
tained that  the  average  brewery-horse  was 
doing  work  equal  to  that  required  to  raise  330 
pounds  of  weight  1 00  feet  high  in  one  minute, 
or  33,000  pounds  i  foot  in  one  minute.  So 
he  called  this  one  horse-power. 

This  work,  however,  is  not  continuous,  for 


the  horse  would  have  to  back  up  after  each 
pull  to  lower  the  line  of  the  pulley,  and  thus 
he  would  work  four  hours  a  day  in  pulling 
330  pounds  in  the  air  at  the  rate  of  100  feet 
a  minute,  and  four  hours  in  slacking  up  the 
rope.  Consequently  no  horse  can  actually 
perform  continuously  what  is  generally  called 
one  horse-power.  The  horse  was  never  bom 
that  could  tug  at  a  rope  for  eight  hours  a  day, 
pulling  330  pounds  100  feet  each  minute  with- 
out rest  or  change.  Consequently,  when  we 
speak  of  horse-power  we  refer  only  to  the  aver- 
age work  a  horse  can  do  in  one  minute,  that 
is  to  say,  the  rate  at  which  he  can  work. 

A  strong  man  might  pull  half  that  weight 
100  feet  in  the  air  in  two  minutes,  but  he 
could  not  repeat  the  operation  many  times 
without  being  exhausted. 

For  all  needful  purposes  the  expression  of 
one  horse-power  is  accurate  enough,  and  prac- 
tically shows  the  measurement  of  an  average 
horse's  abilities  for  working.  As  a  rule  a  strong 
man  can  in  eight  hours  work  at  the  rate  of 
about  one  tenth  of  one  horse-power;  that  is, 
it  would  require  ten  men  to  pull  330  pounds 
100  feet  in  the  air  in  a  minute,  and  then 
slack  up  and  repeat  the  operation  throughout 
the  eight  hours  of  a  working  day.  The  world's 
gain  in  labor  when  horses  were  first  employed 
to  help  man  in  his  work  was  thus  tenfold. 

The  discovery  of  the  application  of  steam 
marked  the  next  change  in  the  development  of 
power.  In  order  to  find  out  how  much  gain 
was  made  in  harnessing  steam,  it  was  necessary 
to  use  horse-power  as  the  unit  of  measurement. 
So  to-day  we  find  steam  and  electric  engines 
spoken  of  as,  for  instance,  fiie,  ten,  or  a  hun- 
dred   horse-power.     Thus   a    ten-horse-power 


iii8 


WHAT    A    LUMP    OF    COAL    COULD    DO. 


[Oct. 


machine  is  one  capable  of  lifting  ten  times  330 
pounds  100  feet  in  the  air  in  a  minute,  or  330 
pounds  1 00  feet  in  -^-^  of  a  minute,  or  330  pounds 
1000  feet  in  a  minute,  and  so  on. 

For  most  people  it  is  not  easy  to  understand 
how  a  himp  of  coal  can  furnish  work ;  but  to 
the  scientist  this  is  very  simple.  In  order  that 
this  may  be  clear  we  must  examine  the  coal 
and  its  possibilities. 

Heat  is  a  form  of  energy  which  can  be  har- 
nessed to  do  our  bidding.  If  you  burn  a  himp 
of  coal  it  forms  heat,  which  may  escape  into 
the  air  and  be  of  no  service  to  us.  This  was 
the  case  for  hundreds  of  years,  and  the  vast 
amount  of  energy  that  was  wasted  before  man 
discovered  the  value  of  heat  for  purposes 
other  than  warming  and  cooking  would  have 
sufficed  to  do  all  the  necessary  work  for  the 
tribes  and  peoples  who  used  fire  from  the 
time  of  the  early  Britons  down  to  the  present 
century. 

But  burn  this  lump  of  coal  in  close  contact 
with  a  vessel  containing  water.  The  heat  pro- 
duced, which  is  measured  in  what  are  called 
heat-units,  will  make  the  water  boil  and  bubble 
and  then  produce  steam.  This  latter  will  like- 
wise escape  in  the  air  and  be  wasted  if  not 
confined  and  its  energy  utilized  as  pressure  or 
heat. 

In  order  to  express  in  specific  terms  the 
energy  of  coal,  or  its  ability  to  do  work,  it 
was  necessary  to  find  some  unit  of  measure- 
ment. Each  pound  of  ordinary  coal  is  supposed 
to  give  forth  12,000  heat-units  when  burned. 
The  way  a  chemist  would  determine  how  much 
energy  there  is  in  a  piece  of  coal  would  first  be 
to  pulverize  it  and  then  weigh  very  carefully  a 
small  quantity  of  the  powdered  coal  and  by 
chemical  means  burn  it  under  a  known  quantity 
of  water.  Both  the  weight  and  temperature  of 
the  water  are  ascertained  before  and  after  the 
burning.  In  this  way  he  can  figure  out  how 
much  heat  was  added  to  the  water  by  the  coal, 
and  knowing  that,  he  can  express  in  heat-units 
the  amount  of  heat  given  out  by  the  powdered 
coal.  It  is  then  a  simple  matter  to  find  out 
the  proportionate  amount  of  heat  given  out  by 
the  whole  lump. 

A  lump  of  coal  weighing  a  pound  is  nearly 
as  large  as  a  man's  fist.      What  is  the  poten- 


tial (or  stored)  energy  contained  in  that  small 
lump  ?  If  we  could  burn  this  pound  so  that 
not  a  particle  of  heat  was  lost,  but  all  went  to 
heat  a  tub  of  water  a  foot  deep,  six  feet  long, 
and  two  feet  wide,  it  would  raise  the  tempera- 
ture 16  degrees.  In  other  words,  it  would  raise 
the'  water  from  64  degrees  to  80  degrees,  mak- 
ing it  just  comfortable  to  bathe  in.  There  is 
nothing  marvelous  in  such  an  operation,  and 
one  may  not  think  there  is  so  great  energy  in 
coal,  after  all ;  but  when  we  come  to  express  in 
other  ways  the  value  of  this  heat  imparted  to 
the  water  quite  a  different  story  is  revealed. 

The  12,000  heat-units  in  the  pound  of  coal 
that  just  brings  the  temperature  of  the  water  up 
so  that  it  is  comfortable  for  bathing  purposes  is 
equal,  in  a  mechanical  sense,  to  9,336,000  foot- 
pounds or  an  amount  of  work  equivalent  to 
raising  nearly  47  tons  100  feet  high.  Here  is  a 
most  astonishing  thing — a  secret  which  the  coal 
withheld  from  man  for  many  centuries.  While 
man  and  beast  were  laboring  to  do  the  world's 
work,  there  were  hidden  in  the  earth  millions  of 
pounds  of  coal,  each  one  of  which  was  capable  of 
doing  the  work  that  would  be  done  by  282  horses 
in  one  minute.  Or  if  we  would  e.xpress  it  in  a 
day's  work,  each  pound  of  coal  could  do  the  full 
day's  work  of  a  powerful  horse,  working  con- 
tinuously, in  pulling  up  330  pounds  11 7.5  feet 
in  the  air  every  other  minute  throughout  the 
day  of  eight  hours. 

There  are  few  things  more  remarkable  than 
the  possibilities  contained  in  each  lump  of  coal. 
A  laboring  man  could  carry  in  his  pocket 
enough  potential  energy  to  perform  all  his  tasks 
for  several  days.  If  this  same  lump  of  coal 
could  be  suddenly  converted  into  heat,  and 
that  heat  all  imparted  to  water  to  make  steam, 
we  would  be  able  to  perform  wonders.  For 
instance,  the  energy  thus  utilized  would  be  suf- 
ficient to  run  an  electric-motor  car  full  of  pas- 
sengers two  and  a  half  miles  at  the  rate  of 
twenty  miles  an  hour.  It  would  also  carry  a 
train  of  six  ordinary  cars  and  a  heavy  Pull- 
man sleeper  and  dining-car  one  sixth  of  a 
mile  at  the  rate  of  twenty-five  miles  an  hour. 

The  coal,  which  the  world  neglected  for  so 
many  ages,  using  it  occasionally  for  heating 
or  cooking,  is  thus  one  of  the  most  remarka- 
ble of  all  the  world's  precious  products — more 


l»o4l 


WHAT    A    1,L'MI>    OF    COAL    COULD    DO. 


I  I  19 


wonderful,  and  in  a  measure  more  valuable, 
than  all  the  diamonds,  rubies,  and  sapphires 
that  have  ever  been  mined.  It  contains  stored- 
up  energy  that  has  revolutionized  the  world ; 
it  becomes  tlie  secret  of  man's  modern  prog- 
ress— the  actual  power  which  has  made  the 
last  century  the  greatest  the  world  has  ever 
known.  Yet,  without  much  thought  of  all  this, 
we  carelessly  throw  scuttlefuls  of  the  black  dia- 
monds into  our  stoves  merely  to  warm  our 
homes  with  it.  And  we  little  think  of  the  waste 
energy  that  goes  up  the  chimney  as  the  coal 
crackles  and  sparkles.  The  greater  percentage 
of  the  heat  is  lost,  while  a  very  small  portion  of 
it  is  distributed  around  the  room  to  warm  us. 
But  even  this  small  part  of  the  heat  which  we 
use  for  warming  our  rooms  is  sufficient  to  pro- 
duce magic-like  transformations  in  the  world 
of  mechanics  and  machinery.  The  heat  used 
for  cooking  our  dinner  and  for  boiling  the 
water  to  make  coffee  or  tea  could  be  made  to 
run  mills  and  factories  if  it  were  all  saved  and 
properly  used. 

Now  let  us  compare  this  new  power  whicii 
man  has  found  in  coal  with  that  which  the 
human  muscles  exerted  in  the  days  when  the 


'  WS^W 


great  Pyramids  were  built — when  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  men  toiled  and  slaved  for  years 
to  create  monumental  works  that  could  to-day 
be  built  by  machinery  in  a  few  years  with  a 
few  thousand  men  at  most.  The  power  of  a 
man  for  work,  we  will  say,  is  only  one  tenth  of 
that  of  a  horse ;  but  the  horse  compares  even 
more  unfavorably  with  steam  and  machinery, 
while  man  himself  becomes  a  unit  of  such 
small  measurement  that  his  efforts  are  puny 
indeed. 

Suppose  we  select  a  hard-working  laboring 
man  as  an  example — one  whom  we  call  strong 


and  muscular,  with  body  trained  to  daily  toil, 
so  that  he  could  easily  perform  manual  labor 
that  would  completely  exhaust  another  not  in 
training.  Such  a  strong  laborer  is  one  wlio 
represents  the  highest  achievements  of  muscu- 
lar manhood.     He  can  wield  an  ax  all  day  long 


in  the  woods ;  he  can  swing  the  shovel  eight 
hours  a  day,  filling  furnaces  with  coal  or  dig- 
ging ditches ;  or  he  can  plow  and  harrow  with 
firm  hand  and  till  the  soil  for  crops.  Such  a 
man  has  from  the  beginning  of  the  world  been 
a  mighty  power  in  transforming  the  face  of 
nature ;  but  here  comes  along  a  pound  of  coal 
which  has  been  buried  for  ages  in  the  earth  and 
for  centuries  after  its  discovery  was  esteemed 
as  of  little  practical  value,  while  if  properly 
used  the  energy  stored  in  it  could  perform  in 
one  minute  all  the  work  that  Jive  strong  men 
could  accomplish  in  one  day,  working  eight 
hours  with  scarcely  a  moment  for  rest.  We  may 
put  it  in  another  way.  If  it  was  necessary  to 
perform  the  work  in  one  minute,  it  would  take 
about  2800  men  to  accomplish  the  task  that  the 
small  lump  of  coal  would  perform  in  the  same 
short  space  of  time. 

If  we  let  horses  do  the  work  instead  of  men 
we  find  still  that  the  lump  of  coal  is  immeasur- 
ably greater  in  its  jiossibilities.  The  single 
strong  horse  is  capable  of  raising  the  330 
pounds  100  feet  in  one  minute,  or,  as  commonly 
expressed,  the  animal  does  33,000  foot-pounds 
of  work  in  a  minute.  The  pound-lump  of  coal 
contains  12,000  heat-units,  which,  as  we  have 
seen,  is  equivalent  to  282  horse-power,  or  282 
times  33,000  foot-pounds  of  work  in  a  minute, 
or  9,306,000  foot-pounds  of  work.  It  would 
take  a  string  of  282  horses,  stretching  out  about 
half  a  mile  long,  to  produce  the  same  amount 
of  power  or  work.  They  v^ould  just  be  ac- 
complishing what  a  pound-lump  of  coal  could 


1 1 20 


WHAT  A  LUMP  OF  COAL  COULD  DO. 


do  if  all  its  potential  energy  could  be  trans- 
formed into  heat  and  harnessed  for  work. 

Take  another  example  of  what  a  pound  of 
coal  can  do  in  the  way  of  work  compared  with 
the  feeble  efifort  put  forth  by  man.  In  olden 
times  when  the  saw  was  invented  a  great  stride 
was  made  in  mechanics.  The  continuous  row 
of  sharp  teeth  would  do  many  times  as  much 
work  as  a  single  sharp  edge  ;  and  a  man  armed 
with  a  sharp  saw  could  greatly  multiply  his 
labors.  But  when  the  circular  saw  was  in- 
vented a  much  greater  device  for  reducing 
the  labor  of  man  was  discovered.  The  circular 
saw  can  travel  far  faster  than  the  hand-saw, 
even  when  driven  by  simple  hand  or  foot 
power ;  but  when  operated  by  machinery  the 
teeth  will  travel  more  than  seventy  times  as 
far  through  the  wood  as  those  of  the  hand-saw 
in  the  same  space  of  time.  In  other  words, 
the  steam-operated  circular  saw  will  cut  some- 
thing like  seventy  times  as  much  wood  in  a 
minute  as  a  strong  man  who  works  sixty  strokes 
a  minute,  or  one  a  second.  That  gain  seems 
so  tremendous  that  one  hesitates  to  expect 
more  ;  but  here  is  our  little  pound-lump  of  coal, 
which  can  supply  power  enough  to  operate 
180  of  these  circular  saws  for  a  full  minute, 
performing  in  that  short  space  of  time  all  the 
work  that  12,600  men  could  accomplish  with 
the  old  hand-saws,  moving  up  and  down  at 
the  rate  of  60  strokes  a  minute. 

In  these  interesting  illustrations  of  the  power 
of  a  pound  of  coal,  it  must  be  remembered  that 
the  full  amount  of  potential  energy  contained 
in  the  fuel  is  considered,  and  not  what  is  only 
actually  utilized  in  generating  steam.  The 
fact  is  that  we  have  not  yet  been  able  to  utilize 
more  than  a  small  percentage  of  the  heat  of 


coal.  In  its  combustion  a  large  percentage  of 
it  is  wasted  up  the  chimney,  and  consequently 
it  cannot  perform  these  marvels  to-day  under 
present  conditions  of  burning.  There  is  con- 
sequently far  more  coal  required  to  do  the 
world's  work  to-day  than  may  be  the  case  a 
hundred  years  from  now,  when  some  inventor 
may  find  new  forms  of  grates  and  furnaces 
for  burning  coal  so  that  there  will  be  little  or 
no  vvastf  of  heat-energy,  or,  in  other  words,  of 
power. 

Coal  has  become  man's  chief  worker,  and 
horse  labor  and  human  manual  labor  are  slowly 
being  pushed  aside.  In  the  great  transforma- 
tion it  has  been  brain  power  that  has  triumphed 
over  brute  strength.  Man  first  sought  to  shift 
his  burden  to  the  backs  of  the  beasts  of  the 
field,  and  the  horse  became  his  patient  friend 
and  assistant ;  but  now  he  seeks  to  harness  the 
elemental  forces  of  nature  to  do  his  bidding. 
The  burden  is  thus  lightened  without  cruelty  to 
any  living  creature ;  neither  man  nor  beast  has 
had  his  labors  increased,  but  steadily  decreased. 

The  harnessing  of  the  waves  and  wind  for 
generating  electric  power,  or  the  focusing  of 
the  sun's  rays  on  a  boiler  to  utilize  solar  heat, 
are  but  further  illustrations  of  man's  efforts  to 
cast  his  burden  of  hard  labor  upon  forces  which 
are  all  around  us,  if  we  but  know  how  to  release 
and  employ  them.  When  some  of  the  poten- 
tial power  of  a  pound  of  coal  was  first  released 
and  harnessed  to  operate  machinery  a  vital  step 
in  the  progress  of  humanity  and  civilization 
was  taken  ;  but  the  time  may  come  when  even 
the  magic  power  of  the  coal  will  be  second  in 
importance  and  practical  value  to  that  of  elec- 
tricity, whose  strange  power  we  are  only  able 
faintly  to  comprehend   to-day. 


>1  - 


>. 


a.  _ 
?>  ~ 


P 


4 


Vol.  XXXI.— 141-142. 


SMILING,    SLIP    ASLEEP. 


Hv  Alex  Jeffrf.y. 


Live,  my  child,  so  that  each  day 
Bring  its  share  of  work  and  play  ; 
So  that  you  can  truly  tell 
There  are  some  who  love  you  well ; 
So  that  when  night's  shadows  creep 
You  can,  smiling,  slip  asleep. 

Good  night,  mama ;  papa,  too. 
One  more  day  they  've  lived  for  you ; 
One  more  day  of  joy  is  done. 
One  more  night  of  peace  is  won. 
Now  the  shadows  round  us  sweep. 
Vou  can,  smiling,  slip  asleep. 

Into  sleep  we  softly  slide 

When  the  heart  is  satisfied. 

Yes,  you  've  had  a  happy  day — 

Cheery  work  and  gladsome  play ; 

And  as  darkness  gathers  deep 

You  can,  smiling — s-l-i-p — a-s-1-e-e-p. 


fi'ss'"  dCiisT^^s?-*  • 


lAKoLD'S    CHICKEN. 


By   Emti  V   \'.    Mki  HVKN. 


Hakold  Godwin  was  quite  sure  that  there 
was  not  another  little  boy  in  the  whole  world 
who  was  as  hap])y  as  he.  He  lived  in  a  big 
old-fashioned  house  whose  large  pillars  reach- 
ing up  to  the  peaked  roof  were  once  trunks 
of  tall  trees  brought  from  Norway,  and  every 
spring  were  given  a  fresh  coat  of  clean  white 
paint. 

Harold  was  the  next  to  the  youngest  of  a  large 
family,  and  the  only  boy.  Although  at  tim.es 
he  thought  it  a  disadvantage  to  have  so  many 
sisters,  especially  when  they  all  agreed  that 
his  face  was  dirty  and  his  clothes  also,  yet  he 
loved  them  all  so  dearly  that  he  did  not  see 
how  any  boy  could  be  hajjpy  with  one  sister 
le.ss.  The  oldest,  Lillian,  the  literary  and  artis- 
tic one  of  the  family,  wore  glasses,  and  looked 
to  it  that  Harold  studieil  his  lessons  and  walked 
in  the  way  he  should  go.  .And  there  was  baby 
Kdith,  the  youngest  of  all.  Then  there  was 
Henrietta,  called  Hetty  for  short,  who  never 
forgot  to  make  special  little  ]iies  and  tarts  for 
him  on  the  semi-weekly  baking  day.  But 
Harold's  favorite  —  his  chum,  as  he  called  her 
—  was  Bess,  who,  although  ten  years  older,  was 
just  as  much  interested  in  everything  in  which 
he  delighted  as  if  she  were  a  boy  herself. 

Bess  had  some  fine  chickens  which  were  her 
special  care  and  pride.  They  gave  her  many 
anxious  moments,  however,  for,  having  the  large 
farm  about  which  to  wander  at  will,  they  fre- 
quently laid  their  eggs  and  even  hatched  their 
young  in  out-of-the-way  places.  Bess  had  agreed 
to  give  Harold  one  from  every  tlozen  eggs  or  a 
chick  from  every  nest  that  he  discovered. 

One  spring  Bess  was  given  twelve  beautiful 
white  eggs  which  promised  as  many  beautiful 
chickens.  She  made  a  comfortable  nest  for  a 
noisy  old  hen  which  had  been  clucking  and 
scratching  in  an  obtrusive  manner  for  some 
time,  ami  she  and  Harold  watched  the  weeks 
go  by  until  one  day  they  found  eleven  brand- 


new  chicks,  all  of  which  were  flutiy  balls  of 
yellow  except  one  that  was  black. 

It  was  baby  Edith's  delight  to  stand  near  the 
old  hen's  nest  and  see  the  struggling,  restless, 
peeping  chicks  diving  in  and  out  of  the  downy 
feathers  of  the  mother.  The  baby  immediately 
adopted  the  yellowest  and  fluffiest  of  the  lot, 
but  her  interest  ceased  when  the  down  changed 
to  stiff,  scraggly  feathers. 

Harold  at  once  put  in  his  claim,  but  Hess 
declared  it  to  be  hardly  fair,  as  he  had  found 
something  that  was  never  lost.  However,  as 
he  was  so  much  disappointed,  she  finally  com- 


'     IIIK    HAnV   IMMEDIATELY  ADOPIKD   'I'HE   VR1. LOWEST 
AND   FLUFKIKST   (»K   Till-    LOT." 

promised  by  giving  him  the  little  black  chick 
which  from  the  first  showed  a  discouraging  ten- 
dency to  shorten  its  days  by  every  sort  of  im- 
prudence. It  had  to  be  coaxed  to  eat;  it  half 
drowned  itself  two  or  three  times  by  falling  into 
the  water-pan;  and  it  was  once  rescued  from 
tile  cat.  Its  last  drowning  exploit  was  nearly  the 
cause  of  its  being  burned  to  death,  'i'his  is  tlie 
way  it  came  about : 

Harold  fished  his  darling  little  chick  out  of 
tiie  water-pan,  and  carried  it.  all  limp  and  (lri]i- 
ping,  into  the  old-fashioned  bricked-out  kitchen. 


1 1  24 


HAROLD  S    CHICKEN. 


[Oct. 


where  Hetty  was  busy  getting  dinner.  She 
told  Harold  to  put  his  chick  into  a  box  under 
the  big  wood-stove  to  dry,  and  in  the  meantime 
to  wash  his  face  and  hands   and  go  into  the 


1-, 


'IT   WAS    BABV    EDITH  S   DELIGHT   TO    STAND   NEAR    THE   OLD    HEN  S  NEST. 


parlor,  where  his  motlier  was  entertaining  some 
friends.  She  piled  some  wood  into  the  stove, 
and  thoughtlessly  threw  the  lighted  paper  with 
which  she  had  kindled  the  fire  on  the  hearth, 
where  Harold's  chicken  was  obediently  "  drying 
out."  A  second  later  she  was  horrified  to  see 
Harold's  chick  making  its  way,  between  a  flut- 
ter and  a  run,  through  the  wide  hall  that  led  to 
the  parlor,  with  the  blazing  twist  of  paper  on 
its  distended  wings,  leaving  the  smell  of  burn- 
ing feathers  in  its  wake. 

She  rushed  after  it,  but  not  before  it  had 
made  its  appearance  like  an  animated  firebrand 
in  the  midst  of  the  startled  guests.  When  the 
poor  bird  was  at  last  rescued,  its  beauty  had 
departed,  and  for  many  days  Harold  was  the 
owner  of  a  tailless  fowl. 

After  this  painful  incident  the  wjiole  family 
developed  a  kind  of  aftection  for  the  httle  black 
chicken.  It  was  pitied  and  protected  as  if  it 
were  the  most  beautiful  bird  in  the  world.  At 
last  it  responded  to  their  care  and  seemed  to 
take  a  little  interest  in  life. 

One  day  baby  Edith  saw  the  old  rooster 
standing  before  a  semicircle  of  ten  fluffy,  blond 
little  chicks,  and  she  ran  into  the  house  and 


announced  to  her  mother  that  they  were  asking 
the  old  rooster  what  had  become  of  their  little 
black  brother. 

Some  weeks  later,  as  the  family  were  gathered 
around  the  supper- 
table.  Dr.  Godwin 
said : 

'•  Children,  the  fair 
is  to  be  opened  ne.\t 
month.  How  many 
are  going  to  try  for 
prizes  ?  " 

Immediately  there 
was  such  a  din  as 
only  a  bevy  of  happy 
purposeful  girls  can 
make  when  each  has 
something  of  vital  im- 
portance to  say. 

It  was  some  time 
before    Harold's    at- 
tempts  to   be    heard 
were  successful. 
"  Papa,  I  want   to 
send  my  little  black  rooster ;  may  I  ?  "  he  said 
earnestly. 

The  shout  of  laughter  which  followed  Har- 
old's proposition  was  checked  by  the  father, 
who  said  encouragingly: 

"  Certainly,  my  son  ;  indeed  you  shall !  I 
will  have  your  name  entered  with  the  others." 


INQUIRING    FOR    THEIR    LITTLE    BLACK    BROTHER. 

Despite  his  sisters'  ridicule  and  their  criti- 
cisms of  his  pet's  "  points,"  Harold's  combless, 
tailless  chicken  was  duly  entered,  and,  to  every 
one's  amazement  except  its  proud  owner's,  was 


1904.] 


HAROLDS    CHICKEN. 


I  125 


awarded  a  ten-dollar  prize.     You  see,  it  turn1.1l  of  their  fine  tails  and  crimson  combs  they  were 

out  to  be  of  a  \'ery  fine  and  rare  breed,  and  the  only  of  an  ordinary  stock, 
only  one  of  its  kind  exhibited.  "  I  tell  you,  mama,"  Harold  said  confiden 

It  is  too  bad  to  relate  it,  but  Bess's  beautiful  tially  to  his  mother,  that  night,  "  it  is  n't  always 

white  chickens  came  ofi"  prizeless,  for  in  spite  fine  feathers  that  make  fine  birds." 


A    QUESTION    OF   TASTE. 


By  11.  .\.   Ckowell. 


Up    a    certain    crooked    city    street,    through 

which  T  often  pass. 
There  's  a  narrow  little  window,  set  with  tiny 

panes  of  glass. 
Where  it  seems  to  me  the  moments  must  in 

sweetness  slip  awav, 
For  a  little  candy-maker  stands  at  work  there 

every  day. 
He  wears  a  cap  and  apron  which  arc  ])i(  tur- 

csquely  French ; 
There  are  snowy  flour  and  sugar  scattered  all 

about  his  bench ; 
In  fact,  I  almost  fancy,  seeing  things  so  spick- 
and-span. 
That  this  little  candy-maker  is  a  little  cnndy 

man! 

But  how  queer  a  candy  man  can  be  I  never 

really  knew 
Till  I  happened  to  be  passing  when  the  mid- 
day whistle  blew, 
And   thought   to  stop  and   stare   a   bit   could 

hardly  be  a  crime, 
Just  to  see  the  kind  of  candy  he  would  eat  at 

luncheon-time. 
Then  the  sight  was  so  surprising  that  my  vision 

seemed  to  fail. 
For  from  underneath  his  sugared  bench  he  drew 

a  dinner-pail, 
And,  as  if  he  did  n't  care  at  all  for  any  sort  of 

sweet. 
This  funny  candy-maker  fell  to  eating  bread 

and  meat! 


Now  don't   you  think   that  such   a  taste  was 

something  very  strange? 
Consider  what  a  diet  he  could  easily  arrange : 
On  solid  things  like  taffy-balls,  for  instance,  he 

could  dine ; 
For  luncheon,  candied  violets — so  delicate  and 

fine! 
-And    on    leaving    in    the    evening,    when   the 

honeyed  day  had  fled. 
He  could  take  a  box  of  creams  to  eat  before  he 

went  to  bed! 
I  wonder,  now,  what  you  and  I  would  like  if 

we  were  French 
.\nd    molded    candies   :dl    the   day   behind    a 

sugared  bench? 


Jdu  A^ura  C/i  J^n-na/'cl^j. 


I  SAT  beside  my  niece  so  fair, 

A  lady  grave  and  sweet, 
Withal  so  wise  that  well  I  might 

Have  sat  me  at  her  feet. 
She  stooped  to  pat  the  puppy-dog 

That  gamboled  at  her  knee ; 
And  when  she  spoke,  't  was  in  a  tongue 

Entirely  strange  to  me  : 

"A  wizzy  wizzy  woggums,  then! 
A  ditty  clotty  doggums,  then! 
And  diddy  wanty  jumpy  up? 
A  pitty  witty  pessums  pup!" 


I  spoke  to  her  of  foreign  climes. 

Of  politics  and  popes  ; 
Of  Bishop  Bylow's  earnest  rhymes, 

And  General  Jingo's  hopes. 
She  answered  well  and  wittily, 

Then  turned  her  eyes  aside. 
And  tenderly  she  whispered  to 

The  creature  by  her  side : 


THK     I'ETTKli     I'fl'PV. 


I  12- 


"  A  pupsy  wupsy  keeter,  then ! 
Was  never  nossin  sweeter,  then! 
A  teenty  tawnty  tiny  tot, 
A  lovey  dovey  darling  dot!  " 


I  rose  as  if  to  stroll  away, 

But  first  a  moment  stood  ; 
I  thought  perhaps  she  'd  bid  me  stay, 

And  rather  hoped  she  would. 
But  no!   she  never  raised  her  head. 

I  turned  the  corner  near, 
And  as  I  went,  her  silver  tones 

Still  floated  to  mv  ear : 


'  A  toodle  toodle  toodle,  then! 
A  wisky  wasky  woodle,  then! 
A  toopid  manny  gone,  my  Joy, 
My  diddy  doddy  dorglums  boy!" 


w 


J^i 


Nature  ^"dScienceC"'^"^^^*'-^'" 


liUei  ty  Edw*rd  F.  Bl^ao*. 


1  iiuiiccd  liuw  valuable  was  some  water  by  niuonlight,  rericLtiii^  the  light  with  a  faint  glimmering  sheen,  as  in  the  spring 
of  the  year.     The  water  shines  with  an  inward  light,  like  a  heaven  on  earth. —  Thoreau. 


EARTH'S   NEAREST    NEIGHBOR-THE   MOON. 


drink,  and  the  problem  of  keeping  it  from  freez- 
ing, or  thawing  it  out  if  frozen,  will  not  be  an 
How  would  you  like  to  take  a  trip  to  the    easy  one  to  solve.     There  is  practically  no  air 
moon  ?      It  would  be   a   long  journey,  taking     on  the  moon,  and  you  must  take  along  a  supply 
more   than   six   months,  if  you  went  with  the     for  breathing.    If  you  expect  to  make  a  fire  and 
speed  of  an  express  train ;    or  if  you  traveled     cook  your  dinner,  you  must  take,  in  addition 


with  the  swiftness  of  a  ball  from 
a  modern  cannon,  it  would  take 
about  as  long  as  a  trip  across 
the  Atlantic  in  a  fast  steamer. 
Under  average  atmospheric 
conditions,  a  large  telescope 
gives  us  a  view  of  the  moon  as 
it  would  be  without  the  tele- 
scope at  a  distance  of  eight 
hundred  miles  from  us. 

The  necessary  outfit  for  the 
journey  must  be  much  more 
extensive  than  for  any  trip  on 
the  earth,  even  the  trip  to  the 
North  Pole.  There  will  be  no 
chance  "  to  live  oiT  the  coun- 
try." In  addition  to  warm 
clothing  and  food,  you  must 
carry  with  you  all  you  need  to 


THE    MOON    AT  ABOUT   FOUR    UAVS 
PAST  NEW   MOON. 


to  fuel,  an  additional  supply  of 
air  to  keep  your  fire  going. 

But  suppose  that  in  some 
way  you  are  landed  on  the 
moon  with  a  supply  of  things 
necessarv  for  sustaining  life. 
If  you  are  on  a  part  of  the 
moon  on  which  the  sun  is  shin- 
ing, you  will  marvel,  perhaps, 
first  of  all,  at  the  dazzling  bril- 
liance of  the  sunlight  and  the 
intense  blackness  of  the  shad- 
ows. Everything  in  the  shade 
will  be  in  almost  total  darkness, 
as  there  is  no  air  filled  with  lit- 
tle dust  particles  to  scatter  the 
sunlight  so  that  it  may  illumi- 
nate the  places  out  of  the  direct 
path  (jf  its  rays. 


NATURE  AND  SCIENCE  FOR  YOUNG  FOLKS. 


I  I  29 


trial  volcanoes,  and    they   probably  were  vol- 
canoes ages  ago,  before  the  moon  cooled  off. 

If  you  happen  to  land  on  a  part  of  the  moon 
where  it  is  early  morning,  you  will  have  plenty 
of  time  for  explorations  before  night  comes  on. 
The  Sim  rises  and  sets  as  it  does  on  the  earth,  lint 
the  time  between  sunrise  and  sunset  is  nearlv 
fifteen  of  our  davs.  Then  during  the  long  lunar 
night  our  earth  will  act  like  the  moon,  and  will 
light  up  that  part  of  the  moon's  surface  which 
is  turned  toward  it.  Only  there  will  be  this 
curious  difference:  it  will  not  rise  and  set,  but 
will  remain  nearly  stationary  in  the  same  region 
of  the  .sky.  From  the  side  of  the  moon  which 
is  always  turned  away  from  us  the  earth,  of 
course,  can  never  be  seen  at  all. 


FIK&T  guARTEK. 


And  what  a  sense  of  desolation  will  present 
itself  to  your  view !  The  Desert  of  Sahara  would 
look  like  a  luxuriant  park  in  comparison  with 
the  lunar  landscape.  Not  a  blade  of  grass,  not 
a  tree,  or  brook,  or  lake — nothing  but  a  vast 
stony,  silent  desert.  There  are  plains,  not  quite 
as  level  as  our  Western  prairies,  and  great  num- 
bers of  mountains,  most  of  them  much  steeper 
than  those  on  the  earth ;  they  are  not  grouped 
in  long  ranges,  as  our  terrestrial  mountains 
generally  are,  but  are  scattered  all  over  the  sur- 
face, singly  and  in  irregular  groups.  Most  of 
them  are  shaprd  iii"i-i^  nr   1i-<-;   like  i>nr  ti-rres- 


LAST  yLAKTtK 


.\nother  curious  thing  will  be  noticed :  you 
can  throw  a  stone  six  times  as  far  on  the  moon 
as  you  can  on  the  earth,  and  you  can  lift  six 
times  as  much. 

Many  other  odd  and  curious  things  coulil  be 
seen,  but  I  think  that  one  lunar  day  and  night 
would  give  time  enough  to  satisfy  the  most 
eager  visitor ;  and  he  would  be  willing  to  leave 
a  place  where  he  must  draw  his  breath  from  a 
bottle,  and  come  back  to  the  air  and  water  and 
green  fields  and  life  of  the  earth. 

-Soon  after  the  invention  of  the  telescope, 
astronomers  began  to  study  the  moon's  surface 
carefully.  The  "  man  in*  the  moon  "  disap- 
peared, but  they  found  what  they  thought  were 


]  I  ;o 


NATURK    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


[Oct. 


THE   APENNINES    (LONG   ROUGH    RIDGE   AT    RIGHT).      THK    ALI> 
(KOl'GH    CLUSTER    .\T    UPPER    LEFT.) 

In  this  cluster  is  wh.it  seems  lo  be  a  mere  gash.  This  is  the  vaIle^■ 
of  the  Alps,  nearly  straight  and  eighty-three  miles  long  and  from 
three  to  si.x  miles  broad. 

great  bodies  of  water,  and  names  were  given  to 
these,  such  as  the  "Sea  of  Storms,"  etc.  Later 
and  more  powerful  telescopes  have  shown  that 
these  "seas"  are  only  plains,  and  that  there  ]> 
no  water,  in  liquid  form  at  least,  although  tht 
old  names  are  retained.  The  mountains  arc 
usually  named  for  noted  astronomers. 

The  moon  is  the  most  powerful  agent  m  j)r(i- 
ducing  the  tides  on  the  earth  ;  it  also  producer- 
some  slight  variations  in  the  earth's  magnetism. 
So  far  as  science  has  been  able  to  investigate, 
there  is  absolutely  no  change  in  the  weather 
which  can  be  attributed  to  the  moon,  although 
half  or  more  of  mankind  seem  to  believe  that 
tlu-   niiKin    lines    liave   some   control    over   tht- 


weather.  All  such  beliefs,  including  the  time 
for  planting  gardens  and  for  going  fishing,  are 
mere  superstitions  —  the  survivals  of  an  age  of 
ignorance.  Malcolm  McNeill. 

THE  RECKLESS  LOVE-BIRD. 

Nearly  every  kind  of  wild  fowl  has  some 
peculiarity  of  habit  which  amounts  almost  to 
an  eccentricity,  and  the  variety  of  such  pecu- 
liarities is  astonishing.  Sea-birds,  from  their 
custom  of  nesting  on  protected  rocks  and  islets, 
are  possiblv  better  skilled  in  devising  means  for 
tlieir  comfort  and  safety  than  most  other  species. 
At  any  rate,  we  find  among  them  many  striking 
examples  of  droll  personality. 

There  dwells  on  most  of  the  isolated  coral 


A    LUNAR    \OLCA.Ml 


A    QUEER    PLACE    FOR    A    BIRD   TO    LAY  AND    HATCH    ITS    EGG 

islets  and  volcanic  crags,  scattered  plentifully 
through  Oceanica,  a  little  white  tern,  or  sea- 
swallow,  about  the  size  of  a  dove,  known  as 
the  love-bird.  Save  only  for  a  narrow  band  of 
jetty  feathers  surrounding  the  eye,  its  plumage 
is  of  a  lustrous  white  and  its  beak  is  black.  The 
writer  met  this  little  fellow  among  the  rocky 
islets  and  atolls  which  are  widely  scattered  to 
the  northwestward    of   the   Hawaiian   Islands. 


NATlkK    AM)    SCIKNCF-:     lOK    VOUNG     lOI.KS. 


I  I  .  I 


'I'lic  treatment,  or,  as  some  might 
prefer  to  call  it,  the  mistreatment 
of  its  egg,  is  the  oililest  of  the  love- 
l)inrs  habits.  It  is  really  a  crag- 
ilwelling  species,  and  therefore  pre- 
fers cliffs  of  some  worn-out  island, 
single  spotted  egg  is  deftly  balanced  on  any 
little  shelf  of  rock,  often  on  the  top  of  a  round- 
ish knol),  as  I  was  many  times  able  to  observe 
on  Necker  Island.  Just  how  the  egg  is  kept 
on  some  of  the  extraordinary  places  upon  whicli 
it  is  deposited,  while  the  parents  are  continually 
flying  on  and  off,  passes  comi)rehension.  l>ut 
there  the  egg  rested  in  mute  testimony  of  the 
possibility.  When  living  on  flat,  sandy  islets, 
the  love-bird  is  in  some  straits  to  indulge  its 
love  for  a  strenuous  home.  The  best  it  can  do, 
however,  is  to  pick  out  what  we  would  consider 
the  most  unfavorable  situations.  On  Laysan, 
for  e.xample,  a  low  sandy  atoll,  the  love-birds 
sought  out  those  portions  of  the  island  where 
old  boulders  of  phosphate  rock  had  ben  min- 
bled  together,  and  here  ,   ^ 

we      found     the     eggs 

perched  on  the  tops  of  .-'  ,  .  ,    • 

jagged  chunks,  and  in 


THE   SUNDKW. 

iig  the  .irrangemcnt  of  the  tenlaclc-bc.iring  leaves 
.'It  the  base  of  the  flower  stem. 


want  .something  richer.  Among  the 
most  wonderful  are  those  that  feed 
upon  insects.  In  the  bogs  of  our 
.sandy  woods  and  in  other  parts  of 
the  world  is  a  small  plant  of  this 
kind,  known  as  the  sundew.  Near 
the  ground  it  has  a  rosette  of  leaves  on 
slender  stalks,  those  of  some  species  being 
roundish,  of  others  long,  slender,  and  almost 
thread-like.  From  this  rosette  rises  a  deli- 
cate stem  bearing  near  the  top  a  number  of 
white  flowers  that  open  one  by  one  when 
the  sini  shines  on  them. 

When  an  insect  alights  upon  a  sundew 
leaf,  he  is  caught  and  held  fast  by  a  sticky 
material.  Then  slender  arms  or  tentacles 
on  the  edge  of  the  leaf  bend  over  the  spot 
where  the  little  insect  is  struggling.  A 
fluid  is  poured  out  from  glands  at  the  tips 
of  the  tentacles,  and  the  soft  parts  of  the 
insect  are  in  a  short  time  actually  digested. 
Later  the  tiny  arms  open,  and  the  leaf  is 
^gffi.       ^1  then  ready  for  another 

■  "^  ,  meal.    Sundews  will  di- 

gest tiny  bits  of  meat  if 
placed  on  the  leaves. 

In  many  lowlands 
there  may  be  found  a 
plant  named  the  "pitch- 
er-plant," that  catches 
insects  in  the  rain-water 
held  in  the  "  pitcher," 
or  cu|i-shaped  portion 
of  the  plant.  The  plant 
insects  in  the 


any  position  on  the  sides 

where   gravity  did    not 

actually     assert     itself. 

Hut     the     clima.x     was 

capped  when  we  found 

the  little  fellows  using 

the  bare  limbs  of  low  Sho» 

bushes  for  nesting  sites. 

We  watched  the  mother  stand  over  the  egg     feeds  upon  the  various  decayin 

.shown  in  the  illustration  with  great  confidence,     water. 

and  when  she  flew  awav  the  egg  was  uol  in  the 

least  jarred. 

WaMIU'      K.     l''lSHKk. 
-Staiiftiril  I'nivrrsity,  ( "alifoniia.  —  -  -^- 

PLANT  TRAP  FOR  INSECTS. 

.Knimai.s  get  tlieir  food  from  jilants  —  either 
ilirectly  by  eating  the  j)lant  itself  or  by  eating 
some  other  animal  or  the  product  of  an  animal 
that  has  been  a  vegetarian. 

Most  plants  draw  their  food  from  the  air 
through  the  leaves,  or  from  the  soil  through 
their  roots.      But  there   are  some  that  are  not 

ENLARGED    VIEW    OF   A    LEAF. 

-satisfied  with  this  simple  inorganic   food  :  they  (As  seen  through  the  microscope.) 


1 1 


NATURE    AND    SCIENXE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


[Oct 


»WE  WILL  WRITE  TO  ST.  NICHOLAS  ABOUT  IT." 


a  queer  four-leaved  clover. 

Stockbridge,  Mass. 
Dear  St.  Nicholas  :  The  other  day  I  found  a  four- 
leaved  clover.  When  looking  at  it  closely,  I  found  one 
leaf  was  on  a  long  stem  ;  the  sides  had  grown  together. 
I  have  not  seen  one  like  it  before,  and  think  it  quite  a 
curiosity.  I  send  it  to  you  in  this  mail. 
Your  interested  reader, 

Lucy  Dubois  Porter. 

Clover  with  a  stalked  extra  leaflet  is  not  at 
all  unusual,  although  not  so  common  as  those 
with  extra  leaflets — that  is,  four-leaved,  five- 
leaved,  etc.  (such  as  are  commonly  claimed  to 
bring  good  luck  to  the  finder). 

The  stalked  leaflet  has  been  studied  by  bota- 
nists, but  has  no  especial  botanical  significance. 
It  is  regarded  as  an  imnatural  growth.  Young 
people  often  gather  them  as  a  curiosity. 


A 


QUEER  GALLS  ON   A   STRAWBERRY   STE.M. 


X.. 


fe.-:      ^'" 


H      , 


V- 


-i 


THE  QUEER  FOUR-LEAVED  CLOVER. 

Notice  that  the  upper  right  leaflet  of  the  four  has  a  long  stem. 


a  queer  strawberry  stem. 

Sawkill,  Pa. 
Dear  St.  NiCHOL.'iS:  I  inclose  a  wild  strawberry 
stem  and  leaf  and  would  like  to  know  what  is  the  mat- 
ter with  the  stem.  It  looks  very  much  like  a  little  pod 
with  seeds  in  it.  Please  tell  me  what  it  is  "  because  I 
want  to  know." 

Your  loving  reader, 

Mabel  C.  Stark  (age  14). 

These  enlargements  are  made  by  a  gall-fly 
of  the  genus  Cynipida,  but  the  species  and  life 
history  of  the  fly  are  not  known.  I  am  de- 
sirous of  securing  fresh  specimens  of  straw- 
berry stems  with  enlargements  of  this  kind. 
Will  our  young  folks  please  try  to  find  a  few 
and  send  to  me  packed  in  moist  cotton  in  a 
small  firm  box? 

THE  RED  SUBSTANCE  ON   A  GRASSHOPPER. 

Mo.N'TCLAIR,  N.  J. 

Dear  St.  Nicholas  :  This  morning,  while  on  a 
walk,  a  friend  and  I  found  a  grasshopper  with  some  red 
things  between  its  immature  wings.  The  red  things 
were  about  six  in  number,  and  about  as  large  as  a  pin- 
head. 

Will   you  please  tell   me  what  these  were  and  why 
the   grasshopper  had  them  there?    They  were  oval  in 
shape  and  fell  off  readily  when  touched. 
Your  affectionate  reader, 

Ja.net  C.   Nive.v. 


NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YoUNC.    FOLKS. 


J  1 


JO 


'I'he  red  objects  on  grasshopper 
wings  are  parasitic  mites.  They  are 
the  young  of  a  mite  named  by  the  late 
Professor  Riley  Tromh'ulium  lociistarum. 
The  adult  is  often  seen  in  early  spring 
running  about  on  the  surface  of  the 
ground,  and  is  conspicuous  on  account 
of  its  brilliant  red  color.  This  parent 
mite  deposits  its  eggs  on  or  in  the 
ground,  and  the  young  hatch  and  fas- 
ten upon  the  first  grasshopper  which 
chances  to  come  their  way.  They  start 
in  life  with  but  six  legs;  in  the  adult 
form  there  are  eight.  Their  food  is 
e.xtracted  from  the  grasshopper,  on 
which  they  remain  attached  during  the 
summer.  In  the  autumn  they  drop  to 
the  ground,  conceal  them.selves,  and 
transform  to  the  adult  mite.  These 
mites  are,  therefore,  strictly  beneficial, 
and  are  sometimes  a  very  considerable 


A   CASE    OF   DOUBLE   PARASITISM. 

Moth  of  web-worm  {Hyphantrin) ;  ugly  wcb-worm  webs, 
as  seen  against  the  sky  of  an  autumn  landscape;  ichneumon- 
fly,  a  pamsitc  of  the  web-worm,  attacking  a  ^eb-worm  in  its 
web ;  chalcid-fly  parasite  of  the  ichneumon  emerging  from 
cocoons  of  ichneumon.     (.About  natural  size. ) 

aid  in  controlling  the  destructive  Western 
locusts  or  grasshoppers. 

Professor  1..  O.  IIow.\rd. 

Thus  we  see  that  even  the  very  small 
insects  have  their  parasitic  enemies.  As 
Swift  expressed  it : 

So,  naturalists  observe,  a  flea 
Has  smaller  fleas  that  on  liim  prey ; 
And  these  have  smaller  still  to  bite  'ent ; 
And  so  proceed  ad  infinitum. 

By  the  way,  the  above  is  often  incorrectly 
quoted  as  follows : 

The  little  fleas  that  do  so  tease 
Have  smaller  fleas  that  bite  'em, 
And  these  again  have  lesser  fleas, 
And  so  ad  infinitum. 

Several  naturalists  have  found  the  forms 
of  parasites  so  varied  and  interesting  that 
they    have    made    extensive    collections. 

Bright  red  larva  of  mite  on  section  of  grasshopper  wing :   adult   mite,  ,->  e  *       i         i  i       *    j    ^ 

deeper  red  (both  greatly  magnified).   Grasshopper  (the  common  red-legged  SomC    torms    are    marVClOUSlV    adapted    tO 
locust)  with  mite  larvae  on  and  between  its  immature  wings  (slightly  en-  •      ,    t    ^  \ 

largcd).  secluding    lOOU. 


THE  GRASSHOPPER    MITE. 


1 1 34 


NATURE    AND    SCIENCE    FOR    YOUNG    FOLKS. 


[Oct. 


the  quahog  and  the  crab. 

Minneapolis,  Minx. 
Dear  St.  NichoI-As:  When  we  were  at  Marthas 
Vineyard  last  summer,  we  found  a  strange  thing  at 
South  Beach.  On  a  long  stretch  of  sand  between  the 
open  ocean  and  the  harbor,  there  were  hundreds  of 
quahog  shells,  slate-blue  in  color.  Picking  up  an 
extra  large  and  pretty  one,  and  opening  it  a  little  bit, 
we  found  that  it  was  alive  and  that  just  inside  the  open- 
ing was  a  tiny  live  crab. 

We  wondered  whether  the  crab  was    feeding    upon 
the  quahog,  or  the  quahog  upon  the  crab. 

Your  interested  friend, 
Katharine  Whitney. 

Crabs  are  often  found  in  mollusks,  either  by 

accident  or  as  permanent  guests  (commensals). 

Some    occur   nowhere    else. 

The  little  oyster-crab  [Pinno- 


BROWN    MUD-WASP    (SCEUPHROTi  CE.VEKTARtrS),    MAGNIFIED. 


A  very  common  and  well-known  insect  often  observed  building  its 
somewhat  regular  nests  of  clay  in  houses,  outbuildings,  caves,  and 
thereS  OStreUlll)   is  found   only      other  sheltered  places.     The  colors  of  the  insect  are  bright  brown 
,  .  and  yellow.     The  wings  are  of  a  semi-transparent  smoky  color. 

m  the  oysters  of  our  eastern 


THE    mud-wasp's    NEST. 


THE    CB-\B    IN    THE 
QLfAHOG. 


coast,  and  another  species  in 

scallops  and  mussels.     The 

'^                      .  Waikesha,  Wla. 

one  seen  by  you   in  the  qua-  ^^.^^  g.r_  Nicholas:    In   cleaning,   last  .summer,  a 

hog,  or  round  clam,  may  have  l^rge  box  in  a  shed,  I  found  a  piece  of  mud,  irregular  in 

gone  there  for  temporary  shel-  shape.      I  broke  into  this,  and,  to  my  surprise,  a  lot  of 

ter  or  it  may  have  been  a  rec-  '''t'^  dead  insects  rolled  out.     Placing  the  insects  back, 

ula'r  boarder.    Crabs  in  such  '  1^«  "^'^  F<^^'=  b^^en  off  in  position  again,  and  calling 

my  father  to  look  at   it,  he  said   it   was   probably  the 

places  usually  do  no  harm  to  property  of  a  mud-wasp.      In  an  encyclopedia  I  learne.l 

the     animal    in    whose    shell  that  this  wasp  lays  her  eggs  in  the  mud  house,  puts  in- 

they  make  a  home,  and  their  sects  in  for  the  young  after  they  are  hatched,  and  then 

host  does  no  harm  to  them,  l^^^^'^^-     ^''='"  <'='y  '  discovered  the   storehouse  to  be 

fully  repaired. 


Naturalists  give  the  name  commen- 
sals to  two  or  more  animals  of  different 
kinds  that  live  together  in  harmony  and 
to  mutual  advantage.  Some  species  of 
sponges  grow  only  on  the  back  of  cer- 
tain crabs,  the  sponge  concealing  the 
crab  from  its  enemies,  and  the  crab  car- 
rying the  sponge  from  place  to  place  for 
new  food-supplies. 

It  is  even  claimed,  on  good  authority, 
that  if  the  sponge  is  removed  the  crab 
will  seek  another  sponge  and  place  it 
upon  its  shell. 

The  commensalism  between  burrow- 
ing owls  and  rattlesnakes  in  the  prairie- 
dog  villages  of  the  AVest  was  explained 
on  page  460  of  Nature  and  Science  for 
March,  1901.  It  is  claimed  that  this 
special  commensalism,  however,  is  not 
always  friendly  and  harmonious. 


DROWN    Ml  D-WASF  GATHERING    MCD. 

Pieces  are  taken  about  half  the  size  of  the  wasp's  head  and  are 
always  carried  by  the  mandibles. 


'9<>-4 


NATrur  AMI  srii:\(K   i(ik  younc.   i-ot.Ks. 


I  I 


JO 


M.Sl-t.  l.l.l 


assume  all  sorts  of  odd  attitudes.  Tlie 
lirva  wasp  eats  the  softer  parts  of  the 
spider,  leaving  the  head  and  legs.  It  is 
these  remains  you  supposed  were  insects. 
Upon  completing  its  transformations 
from  larva  to  inactive  pupa  incased  in  a 
cocoon,  and  from  that  to  the  perfect 
'A  asp,  it  emerges  through  the  end  sealed 
up  by  its  parent  or  through  the  side  of 
the  nest.  It  does  not  necessarily  come 
liack  to  the  same  nest  with  its  .spiders, 
hut  builds  a  new  one.  Mud-wasps,  how- 
ever, frequently  add  cells  to  a  last  year's 
nest,  not  often  using  the  old  cells.  They 
live  but  one  summer;  those  hibernating 
hatch  out  late  in  the  fall.  More  often 
they  emerge  in  May  or  June,  and,  if  no 
other  wasp  comes  along  and  inoves  in, 
the  nest  can  be  taken  for  .-i  specimen  at 


Upon  storing  c.ich  cell  witli  spiders  the  wasp  lays  an  egg  on  the  softer  parts 
of  one  of  them  so  that  the  baby  maggot-like  larva  when  first  hatched  may    that  tUlie. 

re.ldily  find  food  to  its  liking.     The  cell-opening  is  then  closed  with  clay.     The  .  . 

larva  eats  ravenously,  soon  reaches  full  growth,  spins  a  cocoon,  and  transforms  I  hcrC  are  t  WO  COmmon  SpeCleS  Of  mUCl- 

into  a  wasp  within  the  nest-cell.     Then  it  cuts  its  way  out  and  flics  away.  ,       ,  ,        .  -.i  i 

iiauber  wasps:  the  brown  one  with  yel- 

To-day  I  went  again  to  get  the  nest  to  init  witli  my  jowish  markings  is  called  .S(v7//*///v;// ("('///fw/t/W/.f  ,' 
natural  history  collection,  and  I  found  the  door  again  fi,^  0^].,^.^  j^  ^(eel  blue  and  has  been  named 
oiien  and  an  a<kIition  made  to   the  structure.      I  would       n  ,   .  ,        /■-;  r     ■      \  1  c    -c     \ 

,}.         ,         ...  ,,,,-.      /T  Pt'/o/xeiis  (or  C/iionoii)  avritit-um. — b.  P.  A. 

like  to  know  if  the  parents  made  the  addition  (I  sup-  ^  ^ 

posed  wasps  lived  but  one  year)  or  if  the  children  ilid  ? 

.\nd  how  long   will  it  be  before  the   old  nest  is  .aban-  It  is  very  easy  to   make  a  rnllwtirm  -of  -the 

doned  so  th.at   I   may  have  it  ?     Hoping  th.it   you  can     nestS  of  the  mtld-uasjis  with  the  young  wasps, 
tell  me  al,out  this,  I  am,  .^,^^1  ^^..,„.|,  ,,,^,  j,„^,,.esting  transformations. 

^ourstruIv.  lloUK.M.  S.wvvru. 


Mud-wasps  ]>lace  their 
nests  in  any  situation 
where  they  will  be  pro- 
tected from  rain.  Often 
they  do  not  hesitate  to 
come  into  the  house  and 
fasten  their  cells  to  the 
wall-paper  or  on  picture- 
fraines.  'I'he.se  nests  are 
ahnost  always  stocked  with 
spiders,  the  wasps  stinging 
their  victims  to  death  or 
insensibility.  One  egg  is 
])laced  in  each  cell,  and 
the  baby  wasp,  hatching, 
has  the  contents,  often  a 
dozen  small  spiders,  all  to 

't  -plf         ^     "Hfirc   t     I-  f  NtiST  AND   CONTENTS. 

Itseil.      SpiaerS  taKen  ironi         Spiders  that  had  been  stored  in  the  nest.     The  peculiar  attitudes  of*ome  of  these,  as  if  protcst- 

the    nest    before    the    wasp  ing  against  fate,  arc  not  uncommon  with  others  captured  by  the  wasps.    I'erhaps  they  are  not  quite 

"  dead,  or  were  not  killed  quickly.      Usually  the  wasp  lar\EC  fc«--d  only  on  the  more  meaty  portions 

larva  hatches  are  found   to  of  the  spiders  — the  thor.x\,  abdomen,  and  softer  pans  of  the  legs. 


ST.   N  ICJHObAS    bEAGUE. 

f2v'  f 


"a    heading   for    OCTOBER."       BY    R.    E.    JONES,    AGE    l6.       (GOLT>    BADGE.) 


THE    RETURN    OF   AUTUMN. 


^^^ 


IJV    MAUD    DUDLEY    SHACKKL    ORH,    AGE    I5.       {Cas/l    PnzC.) 


We  hear  her  footsteps  in  the  rustling  leaves, 

O'er  all  we  see  the  magic  of  her  hand; 
The  broadly  waving  fields  of  ripened  grain, 

The  golden  harvest  scattered  o'er  the  land, 
The  hush  that  rests  within  the  hazy  air, 

The  faint  sweet  echo  of  the  hob-white's  call, 
The  distant  hills,  bathed  in  the  mellow  glow 

Of  autumn  sunlight,  lingering  over  all. 

It  is  only  a  little  while  ago  that  we  were  writing 
about  the  close  of  school  and  the  coming  of  vacation ; 
now  the  weeks  and  months  have  slipped  by,  and  we 
are  writing  of  school  again,  and  the  vacations  that  are 
left  behind.  The  children  also  have  written  about 
school  this  month;   not  about  the  schools  of  to-day,  but 


We  read  her  greeting  in  the  yellow  leaves 

That  down  the  forest  aisles  are  thickly  spread; 
We  hear  her  voice  amid  the  sighing  wind 

That  blows  among  the  branches  overhead; 
And  day  by  day  upon  the  landscape  wide 

We  see  the  glories  of  her  wealth  unfold, 
Till  lo!  the  earth  a  dream  of  beauty  lies, 

Clad  all  in  robes  of  crimson  and  of  gold. 

It  is  but  natural  that  old  folks  should  believe  that  the 
children  of  to-day,  with  all  the  added  advantages,  all  the 
easier  ways  of  learning,  and  the  short  cuts  to  knowledge, 
should  reach  a  higher  place  than  they  were  able  to  do. 
Perhaps  in  general  this  is  the  case,  but,  after  all,  the 


hard    benches    and    crude 


'  THE   OLD   HOUSE 


ALICE    GARLAND, 


of  those  of  the  time  of  their  grandfathers,  when  most  of 
the  lessons  were  taught  by  one  schoolmaster  or  school- 
mistress, in  a  single  room,  in  some  country  village,  or 
in  an  out-of-the-way  corner  of  a  rural  district. 


methods  were  not  without 
their  value.  It  was  so  hard 
then  to  get  education  that  it 
was  valued  all  the  more,  and 
when  we  recollect  that  nianv 
of  our  statesmen  and  most 
of  our  Presidents  came  from 
just  that  sort  of  a  school,  we 
realize  that  the  struggle  was 
worth  something,  too. 

Almost  every  one  of  the 
stories  received  this  month 
has  presented  a  picture  of 
some  rude,  drafty,  little 
school-house  of  the  long 
ago,  half  heated,  with  prim 
rows  of  little  old-fashioned 
children  being  led  and  driven 
along  the  path  of  learning. 
We  wish  we  might  have 
had  room  to  ]irint  more  of 
these  stories,  for  they  form 
a  mighty  part  of  the  frame- 
work upon  which  our  nation 
has  been  built. 


PRIZE-WINNERS, 
COMPETITION    No.  58. 
I\  making  awards,  contril)utors'  ages  are  considered. 
Verse.      Cash    prize,    Maud    Dudley    Shackelford 
(age    15),    300    Main    St.,    Tarbom',    N.  C. 

Gold  badges,  Ruth  Greenoak  Lyon  (age  13),  13  Pros- 


1136 


ST.     NICHOLAS    LKA(;UE. 


I  1 


Silver  badges,  Mildred  C.  Jones  (age  l6),  405  N. 
64th  Ave.,  Oak  I'ark,  111.,  and  Julian  L.  Tiemann 
(age  15),  22  I'rospect  Terrace,  Montclair,  N.  J. 

WHEN  GRANDMOTHER  WENT  TO  SCHOOL. 

BY    ZE.NOBIA   CAMl'RUBI    AYMAK   (AGE    16). 
( Gold  Badgt'. ) 
Grandmama  was  born  in  Porto  Rico,  in  the  winter  of 
1827.   The  means  of  education  being  very  limited  in  that 


L 

'  'S:  ■  '■m^m      ■ 

WK^ 

, 

pect  Terrace,  E.ist  Orange,  N.  J.,  and  Nannie  Clark 
Barr  (age  13),  319  Eranklin  St.,   Keokuk,  la. 

Silver  b.idges,  Frances  Benedict  (age  16),  North 
Abington,  Mass.,  and  Helen  Lombaert  Scobey  (age 
Ij),  l.anibertville,  X.  J. 

Prose.  Cold  badges,"Zenobia  Camprubi  Aymar  (age 

111  I,   111    Kanibia  dc  Cataluna,    liarcelona,    Spain,    and 

Morris  Bishop  (age  II),  77  Waring  Place,  Yonkers,  N.Y. 

Silver  badges,  Ruth  H.  Keigwin  (:ij;i-  14),   ;,;;   West 

Sidney  Ave.,  Mt.   \ernon,  X.  \'..anil  Dorothy    Butes 

(age  II),  275  Central  Park,  W.,  Xe»      

York  City. 

Drawing.  Gold  b.idge,  R.  E.  Jones 
(age  10),  P.ox  ()i,  Milion,  N.    II. 

Silver  badges,  Robert  W.  Fouike 
(age  17),  55S  I, inc.. Ill  .\ve..  Si.  I';ud, 
Minn.,  and  Virginia  Mayfield  (age 
12),  igl2  Baltinuire  St.,  N.  W., 
Washington,  !>.  C. 

Photography.  Gold  b.idge,  Alice 
Garland  ui^e  15),  .Vndover,  Mass. 

Silver  l.adgei.  H.  Ernest  Bell  (age 
12),  Milton,  X.  Y.,  and  Fred  Loomis 
Mohler  (age  11),  Swans  Klaml,  .Me. 
Wild  Animal  and  Bird  Photog- 
raphy. I'irst  prize,  "  Lik,""  by 
Olive  C.  McCabe  (aye-  17),  570  Boyer 
Ave.,  Walla  Walla,  W.ish. 

.Secoiul  prize,  "  Porcupine,"  Ches- 
ter S.  WUson  (age  17),  623 S.  lli..a.l 
way,  Stillwater,  Minn. 

Third  prize,  '  Young  Kingfishers," 
bv  Rexford  King  (age  17),  Sidney, 
N.  Y. 

Puzzle-making.  Gold  badges. 
Miriam  C.  Gould  (age  15),  16  I'oote 
.\ve.,  laniestown,  N.  V.,  and  Paul- 
ine Mueller  (age  14),  1030  Hep- 
burn Ave.,  Louisville,  Ky.  island,  her  parents  juilged  it  best  to  send  her  to  a 
Silver  bailges,  Clinton  H.  Smith  (age  13),  A.llegany,  boarding-school  in  the  United  States.  With  three  other 
N.  Y.,  and  Erwin  Janowitz  (age  Il\  387  Jefferson  girls  she  finally  arrived  at  Linden  Hall,  in  liordenlown, 
St.,  P.ulTalo,  X.  \'  New  Jersey,  and  beg.-m  her  career  uniler  the  kindly  care 
Puzzle-answers.  Gold  Irndge,  Marian  Swift  (age  andsupervisionof  the  head  teacher,  Mme.  Murat,daugh- 
14),  20  W.  55ih  St.,  New  York  City.  ter-in-law  of  the  late  King  of  Naples.     Not  knowing  a 

word  of  English,  grandmama  was 
obliged  to  communicate  by  signs,  on 
arriving ;  but  this  difficulty  was  soon 
overcome,  as  the  young  ]>upil  rapidly 
mastered  her  newly  acquired  language. 
Shortly  after  her  arrival  at  school, 
grandmama  was  walking  in  Bonaparte 
Park  with  Mme.  Mural  and  her  Porto 
Rican  companions,  when  they  acci- 
dentally met  Joseph  Bonaparte,  who, 
on  seeing  them,  in([uired  if  those  were 
"the  little  Spanish  girls."  Being  an- 
swercil  in  the  aflirmative,  he  spoke  to 
the  children  with  great  kindness,  and 
smiled  wistfully  as  he  pattetl  the  heads 
of  those  who  might  have  been  his 
subjects. 

The  little  pupil  loved  her  teachers 
and  schoolmates  very  truly,  aiul  was 
warmly  loved  in  return.  However, 
during  her  stay  at  Linden  Hall  one 
subject  could  never  escape  allusion. 
It  was  her  hair-dress.  If  my  grand- 
mother appeared  at  table  with  the 
glossy  w-aves  ♦>f  hair  falling  on  her 
shoulders,   Mme.   Murat  was  sure  to 

"THE    .ll.D    HOUSE."      BV    H.   ERNEST    BELL,    AGE    12.       (SILVEK    BALGt.l  ObserVC    that    hcr  pUpIl    looiiCd    SO    WCll 

Vol.  XXXL— 143. 


I  111-:    OLD    HOLSE."       BV    FRED    LOOMIS    MOHLER,    AGTC    U.       (SILVKR    liADGE.) 


I  138 


ST.     NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[Oct. 


HEADING    FOR    OCTOBEK."       BV    VIRGINIA    MWFIELU,    AGE    12.       (SILVER    BADGE.) 


that  she  should  never  dress  her  hair  differently,  but 
monsieur  really  preferred  the  other  style.  If,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  hair  was  drawn  up  to  suit  the  taste  of 
M.  Rlurat,  it  was  madame  who  thought  it  a  pity.  One 
day  grandmama  resolved  to  solve  this  difficult  problem. 


"THE    OLD    HOLiSE.  BV   DONALD    C.    ARMOUR,    AGE    li. 

First  wooden  house  built  in  California. 

and  as  —  in  answer  to  the  bell — she  gravely  took  her 
place  at  table,  everybody  noticed  that  half  of  grand- 
mama's  hair  nearest  to  madame  fell  in  the  soft  brown 
waves  which  that  lady  admired,  while  the  side  next 
to  monsieur  was  done  up  high,  as  he  liked  it.  Whether 
she  dressed  it  high  or  she  dressed  it  low,  grandmama 
never  heard  a  word  about  her  hair  thereafter. 

THE  RETURN. 

BY   X..\NN1E   CLARK    UARR    (.\GE    I3). 

{Gold  Badge.) 

Above  gray  barren  plains,  drear,  lone,  and  bleak, 
A  castle  stands,  from  all  the  world  apart ; 

About  its  towers  grim  eagles  weirdly  shriek  — 
The  castle  of  my  Heart. 

Unto  its  halls  a  radiant  maiden  came. 

Singing  and  laughing  on  her  flowering  way  1 

And  Happiness  was  her  thrice  blessed  name, 
Joy  was  her  virelay. 


She  filled  my  lonely  Heart  with  glorious  light, 
And  violets  blossomed  at  lier  hand's  caress  ; 

But  Death  rode  swiftly  o'er  the  plains  at  night, 
.\nd  took  fair  Happiness. 

Then  came  one  at  whose  power  e'en  mighty  Death 
Must  humbly  bow  and  set  his  captives  free — 

Brought  back  the  maiden  spirit  with  each  breath — 
The  angel  Memory. 

WHEN  GRANDFATHER    WENT  TO  SCHOOL. 

\  play  in  one  act.     Time,  19S0. 

BY   MORRIS   BISHOP    (AGE    II). 

{Gold  Badge.) 

Characters,  GRANDFATHER,  BoBBY,  and  LizziE. 

(  ;r.\ndf.\ther  (solemnly).  Yes,  my  children,  seventy- 
si.\  years  ago  I  was  Bobby's  age,  just  eight  years 
old. 

liOBBY.  And  were  you  Laking  the  Demoragraph  sim- 
plified brain-impressing  inventor's  jireparatory 
course,  grandpa? 

Gr.\NDF.ATHER.  Bless  you,  no.  I  was  just  learning 
to  write. 

Lizzie.  You  used  the  old-fashioned  shorthand  then, 
did  n't  you? 

Grandf.vther.  No;  we  used  the  system  of  writing 
with  the  alphabetical  signs. 

Bobby.  Yes;  in  MiUan's  "Detailed  Research  and 
Philosophical  History  of  the  Half-Witted  -^ge  "  it 
says  that  it  was  generally  used  during  that  period. 

Lizzie.  It  is  n't  nearly  as  good  as  the  Martinsonian 
Svsteni  cf  Brain  Communication,  is  it? 


■  THE  OLD   HOUSE."      BV  ALICE   WRANGENHEIM,   AGE   S. 


1904-1 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


'I39 


Gra-ndfathkr.  No,  I 
suppose  it  is  n't. 

L1/./.IK.  .And  (lid  n't  you 
do  anytliing  else? 

Grandfathkr.  Oh,  yes: 
I  learned  how  to  read. 

BoBBV.  Oh,  Iiut  the  I'help- 
sonian  Miml-rcadini; 
and  Print-comnuini 
cant  system  i.s  much 
better.  I  know  wliat 
reading  is,  because 
Millan's  "Research" 
tells  about  it. 

Grandfather.  And  then 
I  learned  how  to  add 
and  subtract. 

Bobby  Was  n't  that  arith- 
metic? 

Gran'DFatiif.r.     Yes. 

BoBBV.  Well,  we  havi 
Blair's  Unconscious 
.•\nswer  Perceiver. 

Lizzie.     By  means  of  the 
vibrations  of  the  noise- 
less bell  communicant 
I  sec  that  it  is  time  for  our 
dinner. 

Curtain. 


^^^j^^^^m^^fSt  i 

— 

^^       ^\ 

E^,'  ^ 

'ELK.  BY   OLIVE   C.    .M<      m.i  ,     \(,i-.    17,       (FIRST    PRIZK, 

**  WILD-ANIMAL  PHOTOGRAPH.") 


predigested  capsulated 
[Exit  everybody. 


While  the  hurdy-gurdy  's 
playing  'mid  the  chil- 
<lrcn's  noisy  talk, 

.\s  I  contemplate  my  all 
too  short  sojourn, 
I'he  voices  join  the  organ 
.as    it   plays    "  In    old 
New  York." 

And  I  think,  alas  1  this  is 
a  sad  return. 


WIIEX   GRANDMO- 
THER WENT  TO 
.SCHOOL. 

BY    RUTH    H.    KEIGWIN 
(AGE    14). 

(^Silver  Badge.) 
"  IT-u,      huckle,      b-u, 

buckle,     c-u,     cuckle,     y; 

hucklc-berry-|>ie. " 

The  little  girls  stood  in 

.an  admiring  group  around 

Mary  Love. 

"  Oh,  who  taught  you?  " 


"Will  you  teach  me?"  was  chorused  from  all  sides. 

But  Tabitha  Reid  did  not  like  it.     She  had  used  to 
be  the  center  of  that  circle  at  the  noon  hour.      "  I'oolil 


THE  SAD  RETURN. 

BY    Rl'TIt    OREENOAK   LVON    (AGE    I3). 

{Gold  Sadge.) 

Where  the  w.aves  are  rolling  gently  on  the  smooth  and 
sandy  shore, 

.\n<l  the  rocky  cliffs  that  border  Lake  Lucerne, 
Then  I  sigh  as  I  remember  that  I  can  come  here  no  more ; 

For  to-morrow  is  the  day  that  I  return. 

Where  the  baby 's  crying  loudly  in  apartments  just  above, 
.•\nd  the  sun  is  shining  down  our  heads  to  burn. 

Then  I  sigh,  for  I  must  leave  the  Wayside  Inn— the 
place  I  love ; 
For  to-morrow  is  the  day  that  I  return. 

Where  the  band  is  gaily  playing  "  Side  by  Side  in  .1 
Canoe," 
.\nd  we  dance  and  sing  until  we  all  discern 
That  the  hour-hand  of  yonder  clock  is  fast  approaching 
t\^'o, 
And  to-morrow — no,  to-dav  — I  must  return. 


^^:^^;'.MM| 


'1- 

«r«Ba| 

i 

At 

0fH    1. 

iSiS-^     -^^-T?" 

m 

■^ 

"YOUNG    KINGFISHERS."      BY    REXFORD    KING,    AGE   I7.       (THIRD 
PRIZE,    "WILD-BIRD   PHOTOGRAPH.") 


"porcupine."      by   CHESTER    S.    WILSON,    At-E    I7.       (SECOND 
PRIZE,    "  WILD-ANI.MAL  PHOTOGRAPH.") 

riiat  is  n't  much.  I  '11  stump  you,  Mary.  To-day  our 
sjiclling  lesson  is  '  fruits  and  vegetables.'  If  the  mas- 
ter calls  you  for  '  huckleberry,'  you  spell  it  that  way!" 

"Oh,  Tab!"  The  tone  was  beseeching.  It  was 
terrilile  disgrace  to  be  stumped,  and  this  was  excep- 
tionally hard. 

"  Stumped?  "  inquired  Tab. 

"No-o;    I-I  '11  take  it." 

Just  then  the  bell  rang  and  they  all  trooped  in. 
Now  Tab  was  wily.  She  knew  that  the  master  al- 
ways called  the  words  out  in  order,  so  she  could  easily 
lind  to  whom  "  huckleberry  "  would  come.  It  would 
come  to  her!  She  stood  just  above  M.iry.  Just  one 
person  must  miss  to  make  it  come  to  Mary. 

"Second  class  in  spelling  come  forward!" 

Down  the  line  it  came  to  Tab. 

"  Huckleberry!"  v 

"  I  don't  know  my  lesson,"  said  Tab,  so  Mary  would 
have  to  get  it. 


1 140 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[Oct. 


1 


--"*■  ^ 

'-N--      >! 


WHEN    GRANDMOTHER    WENT 
TO   SCHOOL. 


'A    LANDSCAPE    STUDY.  BV    KOBERT    W.    FOULKE,    AGK    1 7.       (SILVER   BADI.E. ) 


"  Then  go  to  your  seat  and  learn  it!  "  came  the  stern 
reply.      "Next!" 

"  What  shall  I  do?  "  thought  Mary. 

"  H-u  —  c  — "  she  began. 

**  Coward!"  hissed  Tab,  from  her  seat  a  step  away. 

"H-u,  huckle,  b-u,  buckle,  c-u,  cuckle,  y;  huckle- 
berry-pie! There!  I  have  said  it."  And  poor  Mary 
rushed  to  her  seat  with  the  hot  tears  on  her  cheeks. 

"  The  second  class  in  spelling  is  dismissed.  I  will 
speak  with  Tabitha  Reid  and  Mary  Love  after  the  ses- 
sion to-night." 

That  night  the  master  had  a  long  talk  with  both 
children  which  they  never  forgot,  although 
they  are  old  ladies  now.  The  master  was 
one  of  the  few  of  his  time  who  did  not  lie- 
lieve  in  corporal  punishment.  But  he  for- 
bade them,  during  the  noon  hours,  for  the 
next  week  to  leave  their  seats  or  speak. 

So,  though  many  things  were  different 
in  grandmother's  day,  little  girls  were,  and 
always  will  be,  about  the  same. 

THE   RETURN   OF   FALL. 

BY   FRANCES    BENEDICT    (AGE   l6). 

{Sillier  Badge.) 

Skies  of  deep  celestial  blue, 

Air  so  clear  and  bracing, 

Leaves  of  ever-changing  hue 

With  the  wind  are  racing. 

Fruit  from  overloaded  trees 

On  the  ground  is  falling; 
From  the  wood  across  the  leas 

Blue  jays  sharply  calling. 

Underneath  the  walnut-tree 

Stores  of  nuts  are  lying, 
Squirrels  working  busily, 

Future  need  supplying. 

Through  the  dark  and  frosty  night 

Bonfires  brightly  burning. 
Who  is  not  filled  with  delight 

At  the  Fall's  returning? 


liY    DOROTHY    BUTES    (AGE   II). 

{Sihcr  Badge.) 
When  my  grandmother  was  a  little  girl 
she  lived  in  a  beautiful  house  in  the  coun- 
try, and  h.ad  a  pretty  Shetland  pony  to  riile 
and  drive.  But,  although  she  heard  the 
birds  singing  and  saw  the  grass  growing  .all 
the  year,  and  deep  down  in  her  heart  she 
felt  very  happy,  she  was  not  allowed  to 
show  it,  but  was  taught  to  be  a  verv  prim 
and  ]:)roper  little  girl.  Her  govei'ness  had 
made  a  schedule  for  little  Elizabeth,  so  the 
child  had  no  time  to  be  idle.  There  was 
something  for  every  moment  of  the  day. 
Tills  is  as  near  as  I  can  remember  of  how 
the  little  girl  afterward  to  be  my  grandmo- 
ther spent  her  day ; 

She  dressed,  had  her  breakfast  of  bread, 
milk,  and  fruit,  mounted  her  pony  and  rode 
to  the  school-house,  wdiich  was  a  mile  away. 
She  dismounted,  tied  her  pony  to  the  hitcli- 
iiig-post,  and  walked  in  with  her  boolcs 
under  her  arm,  wdiile  the  other  scholars 
stared  at  Lizzie's  "shining  morning  face," 
so  full  of  a  readiness  to  learn,  and,  "wished  they  were 
in  her  shoes,"  as  they  expressed  it.  Then  there  were 
the  class  recitations,  singing,  and  draw-ing,  that  consti- 
tute tlie  lessons  in  a  country  school.  When  school  was 
over  Elizabeth  unhitched  her  pony  and  galloped  home, 
where  a  good  dinner  w.is  awaiting  her. 

After  dinner  little  Elizabeth  had  to  sit  and  sew  for 
two  hours,  and  then  she  could  play  till  six,  when  she 
had  her  supper  and  went  to  bed. 

Vou  may  be  sure  that  Elizabeth  did  not  need  a 
second  invitation  to  go  out  and  play,  after  her  long 
imprisonment  sewing,  and  she  rushed  out  to  the  field 


'THE    OLD    HOUSE.  BV   EDAIO.NIA   M.    ADAMS,    AGE    II. 

behind  the  house,  where  her  brothers  were  playing  all 
sorts  of  delightful  games,  and  soon  the  little  girl  was 
as  wild  as  any  of  them. 

At  six  o'clock  they  trooped  into  the  house  to  have 
their  suppers.  When  that  was  over  they  said  good  night 
to  their  father,  and  tumbled  into  their  warm  wdiite  beds, 
there  to  sleep  for  the  next  ten  hours. 


ST.    NICHOLAS    I.EAGL'K. 


1141 


UNWILLING   RETURN. 

I)V    IlKl.E.N    LOMHAERT   SCOHEY  (Ar.E   I3). 
(Sikvr  Bii./j^f.) 
The  golden  summer  's  over, 

The  leaves  turn  red  .iml  brown, 
And  llutt'ring  from  the  mother  tree 
In  showers  come  whirling  down. 

.•\nd  must  I  leave  the  glory 

Of  lake  and  hill  and  tree, 
The  quiet  beauty  of  the  woods. 

Where  birds  sing  wild  and  free? 

If  all  the  year  were  summer 

.■\nd  all  the  nights  were  d.iy, 
I  'd  live  content  beside  the  lake, 

.•\nd  never  go  away. 

WWV.S    GR.VNDFATHER   WKXT 
TO   SCHOOL. 

IIY    EI.SA   CI.ARK    (AGE   9). 

GRANni'APA  went  to  King  Kdward  VFs 
Gramm.ar  School  in  Southampton— an  old 
gray  building  with    church-like  windows   and  a  shady 
cloistered  courtyard. 

Dr.  Isaac  Watts  studied  there.  The  entrance  was  in 
Huglc  Street,  so  called  because  there,  long  ago,  the 
l)Ugles  were  sounded  for  changing  the  guard  on  the 
old  town  walls.  Most  of  the  boys,  to  come  to  school, 
had  to  cross  St.  Michael's  Square,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  which  lived  all  the  worst  people  in  the  town. 
The  boys  of  these  slums  used  to  wait  for  those  of  the 
school  and  try  to  m.ake  them  late,  and  m.any  a  figlit  they 
had  beside  the  church,  which  is  nearly  a  thousand  years 
old. 

.\s  weapons  the  school-boys  wore  pieces  of  rope 
round   their  wrists,  with  the  ends  frayed  and  knotted. 


•       • 

-r 

With  these  they  fought  their  way  to  and  fro.  In  class, 
boys  speaking  had  to  rise,  when  others  would  kindly 
place  tacks  for  them  to  sit  upon,  or  cobbler's  wax  to 
prevent  future  rising. 

The  rows  of  desks  had  covered  channels  along  the 
tops,  with  holes  for  ink-[)ots.  One  boy  would  bring  a 
mouse   to    school,   and    when    the    master's    back  was 


■THE    OLD    HOLSE.  BY    CHANDLER    VONOK,    /\<.l      i  ^. 

turned,  the  ink-pots  would  be  reniovcil  and  the  mouse 
popped  in.  Of  course  it  kept  running  in  and  out  the 
holes,  causing  great  excitement  and  laughter,  and  was 
very  difficult  to  catch. 

When  the  m.aster  asked  who  brought  it,  the  culprit 
was  puzzled  whether  to  be  at  his  mercy,  or  to  cause  tlie 
class  to  be  detained  and  afterward  "get  it  hot  "  (as  /le 
would  call  it)  from  his  mates. 

Sometimes  one  boy  would  steal  another's  notes,  and, 
folding  them  carefully,  fix  them  to  his  penholiier,  and, 
aiming  with  a  skill  that  seldom  missed  its  mark, 
would  despatch  this  arrow  toward  one  of  the  old  be;uns 
in  the  roof,  laughing  to  see  the  other  hunting  for 
what  he  would  never  find. 

Were  n't  they  naughty  boys? 
But  some  became  celebrated  men, 
and  the  school  grew  so  famous  that 
it  was  not  nearly  large  enough  for  all 
who  wished  to  study  there. 

So  another  w.as  built  — anil  the  dear 
old  house  stanils  forsaken. 

It  looks  back  upon  the  time  when 
it  was  filled  with  hiuglitcr  and  mon- 
keydoni,  and  longs  for  the  days  when 
grandpapa  went  to  school. 


WHEN   SCHOOL    DAYS 
RETURN. 

HY    SIMON   COHEN    (ACE    10). 

{Former  Prize-winner. ) 

Vacation  o'er,  to  school  we  go, 

.'\gain  to  study  there; 
To  learn  some  useful  study  now 
Through  winter,  c<ild  and  bare. 


-\gain  we  turn  to  book  and  jiad ; 
We  try  to  master  rules 
Of  all  the  studies  that  we  learn 
In  ours,  the  best  of  schools. 

Our  studies  they  will  cease  at  last 

^^'hen  summer  comes  again  ; 
Now  that  the  sumirfer-time  is  o'er. 

We  '11  work  like  little  men. 


1 142 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[Oct. 


WHEN    GRANDFATHER  WENT  TO    SCHOOL 
IN  RUSSIA. 

BY    MONICA    SAMUELS  (AGE    I7). 


€;?^.i.lQOP 


THE   MORE    STUDIOUS   WOULD   TEACH   ONE    ANOTHER   MATHE- 
MATICS."      (SEE    ACCOMPANYING    STORY.) 

Not  long  ago  1  was  using  some  colored  chalk,  and 
grandfather  related  to  me  the  follo%ving  facts  about  a 
Jewish  school-boy's  thorny  path  to  knowledge. 

Wealthy  families  engaged  private  tutors  for  their 
girls,  seventy  years  ago,  in  Russia,  and  only  the  boys 
were  sent  to  school.  One  school  was  attended  by 
about  twelve  boys,  ranging  from  five  or  six  years  to 
sixteen.  They  gathered  at  the  teacher's  residence, 
where  a  room  was  fitted  for  the  purpose  with  two 
typical  wooden  benches.  The  boys  would  leave  home 
eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  carrying  a  Hebrew  Bible 
or  a  Talmud. 

Once  there,  thev  went  through  a  most  exact  drill, 
consisting  mainly  of  memorizing  and  translating  the 
tex^  into  Mavialushai^  or  mother-tongue  of  the  dis- 
trict. A  little  time  would  be  allowed  for  recess,  varv- 
ing  in  length  and  frequency  according  to  the  teacher's 
temperament. 

Those  who  could  afford  it  took  advantage  of  the  ex- 
tra time  to  go  to  the  writing-master's  house,  where 
they  would  practise  Hebrew  script  on  paper,  with 
quill  pens.  No  doubt  they  inked  their  fingers  and 
spoiled  their  "nibs,"  just  as  American  boys  did  long 
agol  Those  whose  parents  pos- 
sessed fewer  rubles  spent  their 
recess  playing  marbles  with  nuts 
or  beans,  while  others  would  form 
balls  of  mill-ends  of  wool.  The 
more  studious  would  teach  one 
anothermathematics  from  a  much- 
prized  book,  and  would  solve  their 
prolilems  on  the  stone  w.ills  of  the 
house,  using  white  chalk,  which 
came  in  round  balls,  and  was 
broken  in  pieces,  the  resulting 
sharp  edges  serving  to  write  with. 
They  must  all  have  looked  very 
picturesque  in  their  caps,  blouses, 
knee-trousers,  and  winter  boots 
of  leather. 

The  younger  boys  returned 
home  about  six  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  the  others  remaining 
until  ten.  Those  who  remained 
late  returned  home  for  t\\'o  meals 
during  the  day,  and  generally  lunched  before  going  to 
bed.     The  Russian  winters  were  so  cold  and  the  streets 


'THE    OLD    HOUSE 
FLORENCE    B. 


the  boys  home  on  his  back,  one  by  one.  Of  course, 
it  was  very  dark  at  night  if  the  moon  did  not  shine, 
and  the  man  generally  carried  a  square  candle-lantern, 
not  "to  find  an  honest  man,"  but  to  return  an  honest 
boy. 

THE    RETURN    OF    WINTER. 

HY    MARGARET    ELIZABETH    ALLEN    (AGE    I3). 

Hey!    is  that  you,  old  Jack  Frost? 
Well,  I  thought  that  you  were  lost! 
I  've  had  to  listen,  watch,  and  look 
In  every  sort  and  kind  of  nook! 

So,  now  you  're  here,  let  's  have  some  fun  ; 
I  'm  sure  /  '/«  ready  for  a  run. 
And  oh,  how  nice  and  fresh  I  feel ; 
I  guess  I  '11  need  a  hearty  meal! 

I  'U  go  to  tell  my  brother  Ben 
That  our  best  friend  is  here  again  ; 
For  he  's  had  lots  of  time  to  learn 
It  's  a  great  day  when  von  return! 

WHEN  GRANDMOTHER  WENT  TO  SCHOOL. 
BY   KATHARINE  J.    BAILEY  (AGE   I3). 

Grandmother's  school-days  were  happy  ones  —  as 
happy,  perhaps,  as  are  my  own,  though  in  a  very  dif- 
ferent way.  Her  school-house  was  a  low  red  building 
on  a  hill,  w-hich,  in  comparison  with  the  houses  of  to- 
day, would  seem  very  unpretentious. 

The  school-room  itself  was  square,  with  a  huge  fire- 
place at  one  side,  which  rendered  the  teacher  uncom- 
fortably hot,  and  yet  did  not  keep  the  pupils  at  the 
back  of  the  room  sufficiently  warm.  Later  this  w.as 
exchanged  for  an  open  Franklin  stove,  with  the  scholars' 
seats  arr.anged  on  but  three  sides  of  the  room.  At  this 
stove  apples  were  roasted,  and  bread,  frozen  on  the 
way  over,  was  often  thawed. 

In  summer  the  school  was  small,  never  more  than 
twenty-five  pupils,  and  taught  by  a  lady  from  wdiom  the 
little  ones  learned  their  **a-b-abs,"  and  the  older  ones 
to  parse,  do  sums  in  arithmetic,  and  so  forth.  But,  in 
the  winter  the  large  boys,  who  worked  on  farms  in 
summer,  attended,  and  the  teacher,  this  time  a  man, 
devoted  nearly  .all  of  his  time  to  teaching  them  practical 
arithmetic.  At  recess  these  big 
boys  made  snow  forts,  and  fought 

f^^^^  wondrous  battles,  which  sointim- 
^^^|H  idated  the  girls  and  little  boys 
^^^^^_  that  they  spent  almost  all  of  their 
time  in  the  cozy  school-room 
playing  merry  games. 

In  summer  the  recess  and  noon 
liours  were  the  most  dellglitful, 
iur  a  babbling  brook  ran  noisilv 
along  back  of  the  school-house, 
in  the  depths  of  which  were  in- 
numerable pebbles  of  many  col- 
ors. Tliere  was  a  meadow  beyond 
the  brook  where  lilies  and  laurel 
in  their  seasons  bloomed,  and  the 
children  banked  the  platform  of 
the  stove  with  flm^-ers  and  mosses, 
and  filled  the  window-sills  with 
the  blossoms.  In  a  sand-bank 
near  the  school-house  swallows 
built  their  nests,  much  to  the 
lelight  of  grandmother  and  her  playmates. 
The  most  eventful  occasions  of  the  winter  were  the 


(AT    STRATFORD) 
BRACQ,    AGE  12. 


SO  muddy  that  the  schoolmaster  employed  a  man  to  carry      evening  spelling  schools,  to  which  the  people  from  near 


ST.     NICHOLAS    I.LAdUF.. 


I  143 


i>y  tlislricls  drove  in  to  hear  tlie  spellers  or  lake  jiari 
themselves.  Often,  at  the  close  of  the  winter,  one 
afternoon  was  devoted  to  the  giving  of  prizes  and  the 
speaking  of  pieces  and  dialogues,  often  in  costume. 

On  the  way  to  and  from  school  the  children  often  met 
the  old  st.ige-coach  with  its  four  horses  and  the  driver. 
This  driver  was  a  very  important  personage  in  those 
days,  and  upon  meeting  him  the  boys  would  nod  their 
he.i<ls  in  qu.-iint  little  bows,  and  the  girls  drop  curtsies, 
as  was  the  custom  when  a  chiM  met  an  older  person. 

(jrandmother's  school-days  must  have  been  happy 
ones,  for  now,  after  a  period  of  fifty  years,  the  inci- 
dents of  them  are  as  plain  to  her  .as  if  they  were  but 
yesterday. 

Tllli    RETURN    OF   AUTUMN. 

BY    KMILY    ROSE   BURT   (AGE    16). 
(^Former  Prizg-wiitiu-r. ) 
Now  the  leaves  are  softly  turning 

Brilliant  gold  and  fiery  red. 
Now  the  woodbine,  flaming,  burning, 

Glows  against  the  rain-washed  sTied. 

By  the  roadside,  dust-besprinkled, 

Glint  and  gle.am  of  goldenrod 
Mingled  with  the  blue  of  asters 

Greet  the  passer  with  a  nod. 

In  the  woods  the  nuts  are  dropping. 

Brown,  upon  the  leafy  floor, 
While  the  busy  little  squirrels 

Gather  in  their  winter's  store. 

Heaps  of  apples,  sweetly  yellow. 

Piles  of  .apples,  richly  red. 
For  the  cellar  bins  .ire  waiting 

In  their  grassy  orchard  bed. 

\\\  the  world  is  wrapped  in  color ; 

Flames  of  gold  an<l  scarlet  burn  ; 
And  we  know  they  herald  gaily 

Princess  Autumn's  fair  return. 

WHEN    GRE.\T-GRANDM0T1IER    WENT    TO 
SCHOOL. 

BY    EMMA    1,.    RAI'EI.YE    (AGE    15). 

Many,  many  years  ago,  when  great-grandmother  was 
a  young  girl  and  lived  in  Engl.and,  her  father  and  uncle, 
the  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  decided  to  take  her  to  a 
school  in  France. 

In  those  days  the  journey  w.as  a  dangerous  one,  and 
im  the  way  they  were  obliged  to  p.tss,  on  horseback, 
through  a  large  forest  inhabited  by  outlaws. 

They  had  traveled  but  a  short  time  in  this  forest, 
when  they  were  attacked  by  robbers,  who  took  them 
ilirough  the  woods  to  where  their  captain  was  waiting. 
The  robbers  were  respectfully  awaiting  the  orders  of 
their  chief,  when  he  recognized  the  Lord  Mayor  of  Lon- 
don, and,  for  the  sake  of  a  kindness  whicii  he  had  one 
time  done  him,  allowed  them  to  pursue  their  journey, 
.and  gave  thcni  the  password  of  the  forest,  so  that  they 
reached  the  end  of  it  in  safety. 

This  story  was  told  me  by  my  Great-aunt  Charlotte, 
who,  when  a  child,  had  love<i  to  hear  her  mother  tell  it. 

THE  RETURN 

by   ALICE   MacDOUGAL   (AGE    IO). 

Away  from  dear  America, 
Away  on  the  briny  sea. 


.\way  to  the  isle  of  Jamaica, 

There  I  did  wish  to  be ; 
Hut  when  I  got  there,  after  all, 

I  wished  to  be  b.ack  again  — 
Back  to  the  Bronx's  waterfall. 

Back  to  the  song  of  the  wren. 
And  when  I  got  back  to  my  country 

My  heart  was  filled  with  joy — 
Back  to  my  dear  old  country. 

Where  nothing  does  annoy. 

WHEN     MV    C;RANDMOTlIKk    WENT  TO 
SCHOOL. 

IlY   WILLIAM    HAYS    BALLARD    (AGE   8). 

WlIE.N  my  grandmother  went  to  school  she  did  not 
dress  the  way  we  do  now.  She  wore  a  plain  little  dress 
(a  little  low-necked),  and  little  short  sleeves,  and  her 
hair  was  very  neatly  parted.  Her  dress  looked  like  a 
pineapple,  and  she  had  a  pigtail. 

Her  teacher  was  a  very  stately  person,  and  she  said 


no  lady  ever  touched  the  back  of  her  chair.  So,  of 
course,  my  grandmother  had  to  sit  up  very  straight. 

Every  Saturtlay  the  children  had  to  darn  stockings 
and  roll  them  up ;  if  they  were  not  rolled  up  per- 
fectly they  had  to  be  done  over  ag.ain.  They  also  had  to 
learn  to  step  in  and  out  of  a  carriage. 

My  grandmother  stayed  there  .seven  years,  and 
studied  English  literature,  music,  French,  and  history. 
W'hen  she  went  away  her  teacner  gave  her  a  "Testi- 
monial "  for  her  "  Amiable  Deportment  and  Excellent 
.Scholarship." 

"RETURN    TO    .ME,    O    IIAPPV    DAYS." 
BY   KATHARINE    R.    AVELI.ES    (AGE    10). 

Reurn  to  me,  O  h.appy  days 

Of  springtime  long  ago  ; 
For  now  the  winter  drear  is  come, 

And  loud  the  wind  doth  blow. 

Return  to  me,  O  happy  years 

Of  childhood's  me^y  day  ; 
For  now  the  years  are  flying  fast. 

And  I  'm  too  old  to  play. 


1 144 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


[Oct. 


WHAT    I    RKTURX    TO. 

GEORGE  B.    PATTERSON"    (AGE  9). 

I  RETIRN  to  tlie  haunts  where  I  love  to  be, 

Along  the  sandy  shore, 
^  L  o  69f«  the  great  wide  wat'ry  sea. 

As  I  never  did  before. 


^''¥-'^^.^^ 

^ 

p^i^jf^^  ■^"^j 

mg^ 

L^Mb^  LRJ  '^j  15 

jrm' 

^^p^^^ 

!l  - 

* 

*'A    HEADING    FOR   OCIOBER.  BV   JOHN    D.    BLTLEK,    AGE   14. 

WHEN   GRANDFATHER  WENT  TO  SCHOOL. 

BY   ELIZABETH    R.   EASTMAN   (AGE    17). 

He  was  a  pretty  little  boy,  not  quite  five  years  old, 
with  blue  eyes  and  long  golden  curls,  and  lie  sat  on 
his  high  seat,  dangling  his  small  feet  in  the  air.  It 
was  his  first  day  at  school,  and  he  found  watching  the 
other  scholars  at  their  lessons  far  more  interesting 
than  studying  his  own  from  his  little  blue  spelling- 
book. 

The  master  was  mending  his  quill  pen,  preparatory 
to  setting  copies  for  the  scholars. 

.Suddenly  a  sound  suspiciously  like  a  laugh  broke 
the  stillness. 

Tlie  master  looked  up  with  a  frown. 

"Who  made  that  noise?  "  he  asked  sternly. 

"  Please,,  sir,  I  did,"  said  grandfather,  timidly,  ris- 
ing from  his  seat.      **  I  sneezed." 

"Well,  well!  Sit  down,  sir,"  said  the  master. 
"But  if  you  do  it  again,  I  '11  shake  you  in  pieces  as 
small  as  a  horse." 

Though  his  tone  was  severe  he  covered  his  face  with 
his  hand  to  conceal  a  smile,  but  poor  little  grandfather 
was  so  frightened  he  did  n't  see  the  joke. 

Later  on,  however,  he  found  it  out,  and  when,  about 
five  years  afterward,  he  reached  the  head 
of  his  Latin  class,  he  had  lost  all  fear  of 
this  stern  master  whom  he  had  learned 
to  understand. 

PEGGY'S    RETURN. 
BY   CLARA   B.    SHANAFELT   (.A.GE   12). 

Oh,  yes,  I  had  a  lovely  time ; 

Of  course  you  really  know  that. 
But,  Mary  dear,  before  I  begin. 

Did  you  always  feed  my  cat? 

Well,  no ;  I  did  n't  learn  to  swim. 

But  perhaps  I  will  next  year. 
Oh,  Mary!    did  you  water  my  plant? 

How  nice!   you  're  just  a  dear. 

Oh,  yes,  I  did  have  lots  of  fun  ; 

There  was  always  something  new. 
But  somehow  I  'm  just  so  glad  to  be 
home 

That  I  don't  know  what  to  do.. 


WHEN  GRANDFATHER    WENT  TO  .<^CHOOL. 

BY    HELEN'    MABRY    BOLXHER    BALLARD    (.\GE    12). 

It  is  a  long  time  since  my  grandfather  went  to 
school  at  Old  Sarum,  when  George  IV  was  king. 
Things  are  changed  now,  and  he  probably  considers 
our  modern  schools  as  curious  as  we  do  his  old  one. 
How  odd  they  must  have  looked  then,  in  their  funny, 
old-fashioned  clothes,  seated  on  long  wooden  benches 
before  equally  long  desks  !  The  classics  were  the 
chief  studies,  and  by  the  time  he  was  twelve  years 
old  my  grandfather  knew  the  first  book  of  Virgil  by 
heart.      .Arithmetic  was  not  much  taught. 

Outside  was  a  pump  at  which  the  shivering  young- 
-ters  had  to  wash  every  morning,  and  very  unpleas- 
ant it  must  have  been  on  cold  days. 

.\t  dinner  they  had  the  pudding  first.  Generally 
it  was  heavy,  uninviting  "plum-duff."  If  they  hati 
two  helpings  of  that,  they  \\ere  allowed  two  of  meat, 
which  came  next.  Otherwise  they  had  only  one.  In 
this  way  much  meat  was  saved. 

Every  Monday  they  were  given  a  big  wdiipping, 
in  order  that  they  might  "  start  the  week  right,"  as 
the  masters  said.     They  had  other  whippings  if  they 
tiid  anytliing  naughty. 

My  grandfatlier  left  tlie  school  about  1S30,  when  he 
was  twelve. 

Though  probably  a  good  school  for  those  days,  1 
would  have  disliked  to  go  tliere  very  much. 

FOR  WH.AT  THE   BIRDS   USE  THEIR  BILLS. 

BY    MARJORIE    BETHELL    (AGE    9). 

As  we  all  know,  the  bird  has  no  hands.  Let  us  see 
what  lie  has  to  do.  He  has  to  make  a  nest,  feed  the 
babies,  get  his  food,  and  preen  his  feathers.  .\11  this 
and  much  more  has  to  be  done  with  the  bill. 

The  woodpecker  builds  his  nest  in  a  tree  trunk,  and 
gets  food  from  the  tree.  His  bill  is  a  chisel.  The 
nuthatch's  bill  is  a  hammer. 

The  swallow*  and  the  robin  use  a  great  deal  of  mud,  so 
their  V)ins  are  trowels. 

The  oriole  weaves  his  nest  of  grass  and  hairs,  so  his 
bill  is  a  needle. 

The  hawk  is  a  bird  of  prey. 

The  duck's  bill  is  a  strainer. 

The  woodcock's  bill  is  very  long,  so  that  he  can  get 
insects  from  the  water. 


LANDSCAPE   STUDY 
F.    MCNEILL, 


BV    STANISLAUS 
AGE    14. 


ST.    NICHOLAS    I.EAC.UE. 


•  145 


The  humming-bird's   bill   is   long  and  slender  to 
reach  down  into  flowers. 

THE   FAT   BOY'S   DRKAM. 

nv   ANNE   ATWOOD    (AGE    I3). 

O  THERE  came  a  wraith  in  the  dead  of  night, 
And  her  rasping  voice  was  cold  and  sad 

As  she  stood  by  the  side  of  my  small  white  bed, 
And  tore  what  scanty  elf-locks  she  had. 

.\nd  her  face  was  round  as  the  summer  moon, 
And  white  and  wan  and  heavy-eyed  ; 

.\nd  she  wept  and  groaned  in  the  weird  moonlight. 
And  oft  she  looked  at  me  and  sighed. 

"O  Banshee  weird,"  I  cried  in  fear, 

"Why  hauntest  thou  me  in  the  dead  of  night  ?  ' 
Hut  a  fearsome  groan  was  all  I  heard, 
And  the  shrill,  high  laugh  of  a  goblin  sprite. 

And  her  garments  rattled  around  her  form. 
And  the  elf-man  chuckled  in  horrid  glee. 

And  drifted  away  on  a  moonbeam  white. 
Ami  left  the  Banshee  alone  with  me. 


"  Roy,  not  really?"  exclaimed  Mabel,  jumping  up  in 
her  excitement,  but  falling  back  again  from  weakness. 

"  What  is  this  all  aliout?"  asked  -Mrs.  Thatcher,  com- 
ing into  the  room  with  a  bowl  of  broth. 

Roy  then  said  he  had  made  a  cart  to  take  Mabel  out 
in  that  afternoon.  Mrs.  Thatcher  consented,  and  Mabel 
was  well  wrapped  up,  and  carried  in  Roy's  strong  arms 
into  the  yard. 

"  What  a  queer-looking  cartl"s.iid  .Mabel,  looking  at 
the  vehicle.  "  How  did  you  ever  make  it,  Roy?" 
"Well,"  said  Roy,  as  he  fixed  her  comfortably  into 
the  cart,  "  I  hated  to  see  you  poked  up  in 
your  room,  so  pale  and  thin,  and  so  resolved 
to  get  you  out  of  doors.  So  I  took  the  old 
wood-box,  and,  painting  it  red,  put  on  it 
the  wheels  of  my  old  express-cart.  I  then 
made  a  handle,  and  put  in  cushions  to  make 
it  soft.  I  do  think  it  is  rallier  nice  myself," 
he  added,  with  a  little  pride. 

Mabel  looked  gratefully  into  the  kindly 
face  above  her.  "  And  so  this  is  why  you 
worked  so  h.ird  evenings  in  your  shop. 
How  tired  you  must  be,  but  how  I  do  ap- 
preciate it!  Dear  Roy,  your  'invention' 
has  made  me  feel  better  than  the  cliicken 
broth!"  And  Mabel's  happy  f.ace  repaid 
him  for  all  his  labor. 


I 


'THE  LAST   DRIVE."      DV   IIAKULO   CCnTHER   BREUL,   AGE 


Her  elf-locks  streamed  on  the  cold  night  air— 
"O  Banshee,  Banshee,  speak!"  crietl  I; 
And  her  voice  was  like  to  the  wild  north  wind 
As  she  said,  "  I  'm  the  ghost  of  a  cold  mince- 
pie!" 

ROY'S   INVENTION. 

BY   VIRGINIA   S.    GRINT    (AGE     I5). 

Roy  sat  soberly  thinking  on  the  piazza.  Mabel,  his 
sister,  was  not  getting  well  as  fast  as  he  wished,  and 
he  thought  the  reason  was  because  she  was  confined  to 
the  house.  His  parents  were  poor,  and  he  was  trying 
to  think  of  some  plan  to  get  her  out  into  the  air.  .Xt 
l.ist,  after  much  thinking,  he  got  up,  and,  whistling 
gaily,  walked  away. 

Up  in  a  cozy  bedroom  sat  Mabel,  recovering  front 
the  fever  which  left  her  pale  and,  oh,  so  weak!  She 
sat  as  near  as  she  could  to  the  open  window,  longing  so 
much  for  the  balmy  air  and  warm  sunshine.  She  was 
not  discontented,  knowing  that  it  took  quite  a  while  to 
recover  from  such  a  serious  illness  as  she  had  had. 

One  sunny  afternoon  Roy  came  up  into  his  sister's 
room,  and,  looking  down  on  her  as  she  lay  on  the 
couch,  said,  "  Well,  sis,  how  would  you  like  to  go  out 
to-day?  " 

Vol.  X.XXI.—  144. 


Evcr>-  reader  of  St.  Nicholas  is  entitled 
to  LL-ague  membership  badge  and  instruction 
leaflet.     Sent  free  on  application. 


CHAPTEKS. 

No.  764.  The  "Golden  Literary  Club."  Hazel  Haugc,  Presi- 
dent; Harry  B.  Peebles,  Sccretar>- ;  Emma  Post,  Millie  Robinson, 
Esther  Haiige,  Clarence  Hauge,  members.  Address,  261  Davis 
Ave.,  Cleveland,  O. 

No.  765.  "Amateurs."  Ilryant  Wood,  President;  Ernest  King, 
SecreLiry:  Harris  Mosscr,  Charles  W.  Arnold,  niemberi.  Address, 
Rennebunk  Beach,  Me. 

^No.  766.  "  Shakspere  Chapter."  Helen  Pyle,  President: 
Katherine  Sherwood,  Secretary'.  Address,  2123  Ashland  Ave., 
Toledo,  O. 


A    HEADING  FOR  OCTOBER.         BV   PH<£BE   U.VDER- 
WOOD   HUNTER,   AGE   13. 


1 146 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


HE    ROLL 
OF    HONOR. 


No.  I.  A  list  of  those 
,vhose  work  would  have 
>een  used  had  space  per- 
mitted. 

No.  2.  A  list  of  those 
whose  work  entitles  them 
to  honorable  mention  and 
encouragement. 


BY  FLOYD  L.  MITCHELL, 
AGE    16. 


Jessie  E.  Springer 
Stella  F.  Boyden 
Dorothy  Grace  Gibson 
Ernest  Bennett 
Margaret  C.  Richey 
Kathleen  Seagraves 
Philip  Warren  Thayer 
Josephine  W'hitbeck 
Elizabeth  Sutherland 
Helen  L.  Slack 
Vera  Mumford  Stevens 


Pauline  Kleinstnck 
Stanley  F.  Moodie 
Dorothea  Thompson 
Kemper  Simpson 
Margaret  Spahr 
Willie  K.  Gahagan 
Elsie  B.  Campbell 
Lesley  Stewait 
Carolin  Allport 
Ruth  Chatterton 
Helen  Whitman 
Flora  Horr 
Elizabeth  P.  Defan- 
dorf 

DRAWINGS   I. 


VERSE  I. 

Anne  Atwood 

Doris  Francklyn 

Clifford  Poulten 

Richard  R.  Mont- 
gomery 

Conrad  Potter  Aiken 

Irene  Weil 

Laura  Gregg 

Audrey  Jakobi 

Robert  E.  Humphrey 

Alice  Moore 

Aurelia  Michener 

Theodosia  D.  Jessup 

Hazel  Rotholz 

Dorothea  M.  Dexter 

Agnes  Dorothy  Camp- 
bell 


Katherine  Taylor 
Gladys  Chew 
Genevieve  M.  Fox 
Joseph  P.  D.  Hull 
Daisy  Errington  Bret- 
tell 
Mary  R.  Smyth 
Gertrude  Ford 
Maugridge  S.  Robb 
Ruth  Maurer 
Josephine  F.  Swain 
Mary  Blossom  Bloss 
Ruth  A.  Sullivan 
Arthur  Perring  Hew- 

ard 
Frances  Paine 
Sarah  C.  Davis 
Annie  Smith 
Carolyn  Bulley 


Jessie  Freeman  Foster   Janet  L.  Shuntz 


Eleanor  Myers 
Mary  Henderson 

Ryan 
Katherine  Kurz 
Dorothy  McAlpin 
Helen  Spear 
Gertrude  Louise  Can- 
non 
Alleine  Langford 
Frances  P.  Tilden 
Gladys  Knight 
Elsie  Reed  Hayes 
Marguerite  Borden 
Helen  Van  Dyck 
Marion  Prince 
Edith  Brooks  Hunt 
Louise  M.   Mitchell 
Anna  C.  Heffern 
Gwenllian  Peirson 

Turner 
Bernice  Brown 
Helcne  Mabel  Sawyer 
Marion  B.  Mattice 
Catharine  H.  Siraker 
Margaret  Lyon  Smith 
Jean  Plant 
Dorothy  Bedell 
Harold  R.  Norris 
Gertrude  Madge 
Kathleen  A.  Burgess 

VERSE  2. 

Florence  L.  Adams 
Stanley  Dyer 


Ethel  Coat 
Gertrude  Kaufman 
Carolyn  Coit  Stevens 
Eugenie  B.  Baker 
Franc  C.  Hockenber- 

ger 
Marguerote  Stuart 
Mary  Evelina  Hatch 
Anita  Bradford 


Melville  Coleman 

Levey 
Edith  Park 
Dorothy  Sturgis 
Helen  Van  Valken- 

burgh 
Nancy  Barnhart 
Elizabeth  A.  Gest 
Anna  Zucker 
Clara  Hecker 
PROSE   2.  Ella  E.  Preston 

Julia  Wilder  Kurtz 
Edith  Muriel  Andrews  Jacob  D.  Bacon. 
Gretchen  Neuburger     "^largaret  Sharpe 


Alice  Lorraine  An- 
drews 
Shirley  Willis 
Mildred  C.  Frizzell 


Dorothy  I.ongstreth 
Samuel  Davis  Otis 


Beatrice  Andrews 
Raymond  Rohn 
Jacqueline  Overton 
Helen  K.  Bromm 
Evelyn  ( >-  Foster 
Ivan  F.  Summers 
Edna  Hecker 
^L-^rge^y  Bradshaw 
Mary  Hazeltine  Few- 
smith 
Harriet  Park 
Hugh  Spencer 
Joseph  Weber 
Gilbert  Cosiilich 
Marie  Russel 
Lois  Cooper 
Katharine  Monica 

Burton 
Dorothy  B.  Gilbert 
Margaret  McKeon 
Bertha  V.  Emerson 
Florence  Mason 
Marguerite  W.  Wat- 
son 
Dorothy  Mulford 

Riggs 
Eloise  Wilson 
Marie  Jedermann 
Hilda  Kohr 
Grace  F,  R.  Meeker 
Margaret  Blair 
Adelaide  Chamberlin 
Christina  B.  Fisher 


Archibald  MacKinnon  Alex  Seiffert 


Frances  Russell 


Helen  R    Schlesinger   Katherine  Burket 


Ruth  Kinsey 
Helen  J.  Simpson 
Edith  Slay  Deacon 
Manuelita  Koefoed 
Mildred  L.  Pettit 
Grace  Gates 
Agnes  I.  Meyer 
Helen  F.  Bell 
Marjoiie  L.  Sleight 
Frances  Lubbe  Ross 


Elizabeth  Eicholtz 

Thomas 
Dorothy  Ochtman 
Harriet  K.  Walker 
Phyllis  McVickar 

DRAWINGS  2 

Muriel  C.  Evans 
Cari  B.  Timberlake 


Mildred  C.  Andrus 
Gertrude  Traubel 
Max  Bernhardt 
Betty  Locket 
Ruth  King 
Marion  Osgood 

Chapin 
Kathleen  Buchanan 
Sybil  Emerson 
Mary  Pemberton 

Nourse 
Julia  Halleck 


Mena  Blumenfeld 
Jeannette  Munro 
Iveagh  Sterry 
Geraldine  Estelle 

Stock  ris 
Amy  Bradish  Johnson 
Valentine  Newton 
Florence  Gardiner 

PROSE    I. 

Corinne  J.  Gladding 
Marion  A.  Rubican 
Margaret  Douglass 

Gordon 
Helen  Russell 
Marianna  Lippincott 
Jessie  Pringle  Palmer 
Helen  W.  Kennedy 
Fern  L.  Patten 
Chester  Wilson 
Anna  Marion  Button 
Margaret  B.  Hopper 
Dorothy  Nicoll 
Lola  Hall 

Alexander  T.  Ormond 
Gertrude  M.  Shell 
Winifred  D-  Boege- 

hold 
Alison  Winslow 
Gretchen  Stirling 

James 
Emanie  Nahm 
Eleanor  Baxter 
Isabel  Gould  Coflfin 


Mary  Veula  Westcott    Harriette  Kyler  Pease 


Dorothy  Stanion 
Katherine  R.  Polk 
Margaret  McElroy 
Harriet  Colbum  Ben- 
nett 
Ruth  McNamee 
Sarah  Hall  Gaitlier 
William  G.  Maupin 
Catharine  W.  Babcock 


'A    HEADING    FOR   OCTOBER.  BY   JOHN    SINCLAIR,    AGE    12. 


Helen  Chandler  Willis   Dorothy  Kuhns 


Mary  Talcolt 
Blanche  Bloch 
Alma  E.  Borger 
Constance  Coolidge 
Elsie  F.  Weil 
Harriet  R.  Fox 
Charles  Norman  Bart- 

litt 
Mary  A.  Janeway 


Margaret  Spencer- 
Smith 
Bessie  T.  Griffith 
Edward  L.  Kastler 
Ellen  C.  Griffith 
Anne  Constance 

Nourse 
Elizabeth  Stockton 
Irma  Jessie  Dieschcr 


William  Hazlett  Up- 
son 
Bessie  Wright 
Lydia  C.  G^ibson 
Louise  Miller 
Marie  Atkinson 
Herbert  W.  Landau 
Anna  Zollars 
Frances  W.  Varrell 


[Oct. 

Margaret  Josenhans 
Mary  Taft  Atwater 
Anna  La  Lanne 
Mary  McLeran 
Dorothy  Barkley 
Winifred  Hutchings 
Jane  Swift 
Ruth  Bessie  Bloch 
Anna  Longslreth 
Hermann  Schussler 
Sadie  Dorothy  Stabern 
Frances  C.  Jackson 
Isabel  Ruth  Cooper 
Katherine  Gibson 
Lucia  Warden 

PHOTOGRAPHS  i. 

Chandler  W.  Ireland 
Catherine  E.  Camp- 
bell 
Henry  H.  Hickman 
Edmund  S.  McCawley 
J.  Parsons  Grecnleaf 
Maud  L.  Symonds 
Margaret  Williamson 
Max  Plambeck 
Esther  M.  Wing 
Henry  Holmes 
Amy  Peabody 
Margaret  B.  Ross 
Katharine  M.  Forbes 
Gladys  L.  Brown 
R.  Glen  Osbom 
Mary  Gove 
Donald  Myrick 

PHOTOGRAPHS  2. 

Nellie  B.  Lewis 
Gertrude  Trumplette 
Walter  Brettell 
Edith  M.  Gates 
G.  Raymond  Green 
Mary  Nash 
Eleanor  Park 
Florence  (.).  Tirrell 
Rebecca  M.  Hart 
John  M.  Rehfish 
Walter  C.  Preston 
Lucy  Dunham 
Dorothy  Gray  Brooks 
Dorothy  Wormser 
Henry  S.  Kirshberger 
Sarah  McCarthy 
Gertrude  M.  Howland 
Morehouse  Colcy 
Anna  M.  McKechnie 
Gladys  E.  Chamber- 
lain 
George  Grady,  Jr. 
Theodora  B.  E.  Mc- 

Cormick 
Elsie  Wormser 
P'redericks  Going 
Helen  Froelich 
Beatrice  Howson 
Katharine  Delano 

Williams 
Alice  Pine 
Constance  R,  Allen 
Dorothy  Hamlin 
Johnathan  W.  French 
Pendleton  Schaick 
Edith  M.  Hobson 
John  Rice  Miner 
Margarett  Street 
Sturges  D.  Cook 
Ruth  French  Adams 
Mary  Woods 
Clara  R.  Williamson 
Virginia  L.  Hunt 
Frederick  S.  Branden- 
burg 
Rose  Anna  McCul- 

lough 
Marj'  Redfield  Adim 
Dorothy  W.  Stanton 
Lewis  P.  Craig 
T.  K.  Whipple 
Alice  L.  Cousens 
Warren  Hastings 
Lawrence  H.  Riggs 


M-iijorie  C.  Newell 
Isabrl  La  Monic 
Fr:ink  P.  Abbot 
Kiitharine  Doimho 
Arthur  M.  McClure 
Irene  F.  Wclmure 
Littie  Knultenbcrg 
Francis  M.  Watson, 

John  S.  Perry 
Caihcrine  OuURlas 
Harold  K.  Schoff 
Dorolhea  Clapp 
Carlou  Glasgow 

PUZZLES  I. 

Joseph  ^^  Hcinaii 
ftladge  Oakley 
A^nes  R.  Lane 
L.  Arnold  Post 


ST.    NICHOLAS    LEAGUE. 


1147 


Marion  E.  Senn 
Elizabeth  H.  l{erT>- 
Julia  Miisser 
Gertrude  A.  Strickler 
Mildred  Martin 
(•erald  Smith 
Hazel  iJixon 
E.  Adelaide  Hahn 
lienjamin  L.  Miller 

PUZZLES  3 

Armorcl  Thomas 
Koberi  K.  Chfton 
Nettie  l^arnwcll 
Phyllis  Nanson 
Dorothy  Aldcrson 
Emily  W.  Browne 
Marguerite  Godron 


Joy  Mauck 
Wi" 


illie  Mussclman 


•  A  HEADING.         BV  H 
AGE    17. 


LETTERS. 

Chicago,  III. 

Dear  St.  Nichouvs:  I  received  the  cash  prize  which  you 
awarded  me  in  the  May  compeiirion,  and  hereby  wish  to  thank  you 
for  the  same,  and  also  wish  to  express  my  appreciation  of  the  help 
which  the  St.  Nicholas  League  has  given  mc  in  my  art  work. 

My  drawing  fur  January-,  1904,  which  was  awarded  the  gold 
medal,  was  the  means  of  obtainini^  for  mc  my  first  chance  to  study 
art  in  an  art  schnul.  I  was  attending  the  University  of  Michigan  at 
the  time,  and  the  authorities,  havmg  seen  the  drawing  in  the  St. 
Nicholas  magazine,  sent  me  to  ilie  Academy  of  Fine  Arts  in 
Chicago  to  be  assisted  in  ihc  illustration  of  their  *'  College  .-Vnnual." 

The  competitions  of  the  St.  Nicholas  League 
arc  a  fine  thmg  for  young  people  who  intend 
making  art  or  literature  their  vocation,  since 
only  original  work  is  accepted,  which  work  is 
of  ihe  most  benefit. 

Wishing  the  St.  Nicholas  League  unlimited 
success  in  Its  work  for  the  advancement  for 
young  folks,  I  am,  sincerely  yours, 

Harry  B.  Lachma.n. 

MiLTOK,  N.  H. 
Dear  St.  Ntcholas:  My  badge  came  I.Tst 
night  .ind  I  am  more  than  delighted  with  it. 
I  shall  always  keep  it,  and  shall  always  look 
back  with  pleasure  (o  the  time  "when  my  first 
picturc'was  printed."  I  mean  to  work  hard 
this  summer  all  by  myself,  and  shall  send  in 
more  drawings,  even  belter,  I  hope,  than  the 
one  which  was  printed.  Thanking  you  again 
for  the  beautiful  badge,  I  remain. 
Most  gratefully  yours, 

Robert  E.  Jones. 

Toledo,  Ohio. 
Dear  League  :  We  arc  two  girls,  and  being 
very  fond  of  Shakspcrc  have  formed  a  "  Shak- 
sperc  Chapter." 

One  of  us  lives  in  Mineral  City  and  the  other 
in  Toledo,  so  we  are  going  to  carry  on  our 
chapter  by  correspondence. 

We  would  like  chapter  correspondents  between  thirteen  and  fif- 
teen years  of  age. 

With  many  hopes  for  the  future  success  of  the  League,  we  re- 
main, 

Your  devoted  readers, 

Hi-LEN  PvLK,  President. 
Katharine  Sherwood,  Secretary. 

Other  interesting  and  appreciative  letters  have  been  re- 
ceived from  Elizabeth  .\L  T.  Word,  Alice  Knowles,  Frieda 
G.  Carty.  M.  Adelaide  Durst,  Martin  Janowitz,  L.  Arnold 
Post,  Margaret  J.  Beattie,  Dorothy  E.  Downing,  Margaret 
F.  Nye.  Edna  Krousc,  Anna  B.  Carolan,  Hazel  Green,  Mara 
Anderson,  Thercse  Goldie,  Marian  A.  Smith,  Fulvia  Var- 
varo.  Nerina  Varvaro,  J.  S.  Brown,  Jr.,  .Mabel  F.  Whitc- 
hc.id.  Heline  Mabel  Sawyer,  Dorothy  Longstreth,  Mary 
Louise  Holmes,  Eileen  I^wrencc  Smith,  Thniston  Brown, 
Marjory  H.  Thomas.  Mabel  G.  Heine,  Corinne  Bowers, 
Eleanorc  Kellogg,  Anna  C.  HefTem.  Mary  R.  Adam,  Harry 
B.  Peebles,  Dorothy  Stanion,  Gertrude  H.  Reazor,  lone 
Casey,  Elizabeth  R.  Eastman,  Mary  Camp,  Jennie  Stevens 
Milliken,  Margaret  Colgate,  Edna  Reinhart,  Grace  Harcn, 
CJiistav  Leonhardt,  Ned  DurrcH,  Alice  Wickenden,  Eliza- 
beth Thurston,  Doris  M.  Shaw,  Therese  T.ipley,  Margaret 
Sundet,  Anne  V.  Russell,  Catharine  H.  Straker,  Allcinc 
Langford,  Gladys  Nelson,  Prior  Onderdonk,  Doris  Hack- 
busch,  Jeannie  R-  Sampson,  Margaret  Stuart  Browne,  Es- 
ther  Kendall  Davis,  Dorothea   Bechtel,  Sophronia  Moore 


"old   SAN    GABRIEL   MISSION 

CHOIR."      BY    KATHEKINE   DULCE- 

BELLA    BARBOUR,    ACE    II. 


Cooper,  John  P.  Phillips,  Rachel  Talboit.  Ruth  Bart- 
lelt,  Ray  Randal,  John  V.  S.  Bloodgood.  Saidce  E. 
Kennedy,  Esther  A.  Goodenow,  Frances  Bryant  God- 
win. F.lsie  Newton,  Margaret  W.  Stevens.  Rosalie 
Day,  Barbara  Nelson,  Konni  Zilliacus.  Jr.,  Mar^;aret 
F.  Grant,  Clara  B.  Shnnafelt.  Henry  G  Prince,  Doro- 
thy Elizabeth  True.  Edith  Wcllran.  Charles  Lynch, 
Laurin  Zilliacus,  Katharine  M.  M.  Sherwood. 


PRIZE  COMPETITION  NO.  61. 

The  St.    Nicholas   League  awards  gold 
and  silver  batlges  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. 
This  does  not  include  "Wild  Animal  and 
Bird  Photograph  "  prize-winners. 
Competition  No.  61  will  close  October  20  (for  for- 
eign  members   October  25).      The  awards   will  be  an- 
nounced and  prize  contributions  published  in  St.  Nich- 
olas for  January. 

Verse.     To  contain  not  more  than  twenty-four  lines. 
Title:   to  contain  the  word  "Welcome." 

Prose.     Article  or  story  of  not  more  than  four  hun- 
dred words  to  relate  some  episode  in  Japanese  history. 
Photograph.     Any  size,  interior  or  exterior,  mounted 
or   unmounted ;    no   blue   prints  or   nega- 
tives.    'Subject,  "School  Days." 

Drawing.  India  ink,  very  black  writ- 
ing-ink, or  wash  (not  color),  interior  or 
exterior.  Two  subjects,  "My  Playmate" 
and  a  Heading  or  Tailpiece  for  January. 

Puzzle.  Any  sort,  but  mi^t  be  accom- 
panied 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  in- 
dorsed. 

Wild  Animal  or  Bird  Photograph.  To 
encourage  the  pursuing  of  game  with  a 
camera  instead  of  a  gun.  For  the  best 
photograph  of  a  wild  animal  or  bird  taken 
in  its  natural  home  :  First  Prizcy  five  dol- 
lars and  League  gold  badge.  Second  Prizes 
three  dollars  and  League  gold  badge.  Third 
Prize,  League  gold  badge. 


RULES. 


Any  reader  of  St.  Nicholas,  whether  a  subscriber 
or  not,  is  entitled  to  League  memljership,  anil  a  League 
badge  and  leaflet,  which  will  be  sent  on  application. 

Every  contribution,  of  whatever  kind,  tfiust  bear  the 
name,  age,  and  address  of  the  sender,  and  be  indorsed 
as  "original  "  by  parent,  teacher,  or  guardian,  'who  must 
be  convinced  beyond  doubt  that  the  contribution 
is  not  copicdy  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  itsei/—\i 
a  manuscript,  on  the  upper  margin  ;  if  a  picture, 
on  the  margin  or  bach.  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  : 


'    OCTOHER. 

BV   WALTER    H. 

JOHNSON, 

AGE  8. 


The  St.  Nicholas  League, 

Union  Sq\iare, 

New  York. 


BOOKS   AND    READING. 


BOOKS   FOR   A  ^VILLIA^I    PICKERING  was 

DOLL-HOUSE,  a  very  excellent  English 
printer,  something  less  than  one  hundred 
years  ago,  who  put  on  the  title-pages  of  his 
books  a  curious  picture.  This  picture  was  of 
an  anchor  about  which  a  dolphin  twined  itself 
into  the  letter  S.  Pickering  used  this  sign  be- 
cause it  was  the  sign  of  two  of  the  most  noted 
printers  that  ever  lived,  the  Aldus  or  Aldo 
family  of  Venice.  And  in  order  to  show  that 
he  chose  the  sign  for  that  very  reason,  Picker- 
ing printed  around  it  Latin  words,  AMi  Discip. 
Aiigli/s,  meaning  "  English  follower  of  Aldus." 
Pickering  took  pride  in  his  work,  and,  among 
other  dainty  things,  brought  out  a  set  of  little 
books  that  are  hardly  too  large  for  a  big  doll 
or  the  library  of  a  doll-house.  Tliey  are  only 
three  and  three  fourth  inches  tall  and  two 
inches  wid^. 

But,  small  and  dainty  in  size,  they  are  very 
important  in  contents.  There  is  one  set  of 
Shakspere's  plays  in  nine  volumes ;  Homer's 
two  great  epics  make  two  volumes  more ;  and 
Virgil,  Horace,  and  other  great  authors  com- 
plete the  series.  It  would  be  a  very  learned 
doll  who  could  say  she  knew  all  there  was  in 
that  library,  and  she  would  need  excellent  eyes, 
for  the  print  is  very  tiny. 

A  POETRY  When  the  fall  and  winter 

PARTY.  make  it  seem  delightful  tobe 

again  indoors, girls  often  like  to  have  suggestions 
for  methods  of  making  their  meetings  attractive 
— something  besides  the  usual  "talk  and  refresh- 
ments "—what  some  eminent  man  of  letters  in 
a  waggish  way  described  as  "giggle,  gabble, 
gobble,  and  git." 

A  series  of  little  meetings,  each  in  celebra- 
tion of  some  poet's  birthday  or  other  anni- 
versary, would  be  an  excuse  for  making  some 
interesting  additions  to  the  usual  program. 
Thus  there  would  be  no  great  difficulty  in  ar- 
ranging a  Shakspere  party  or  a  Milton  party, 
in  which  quotations  from  the  works  of  either 
poet  were  used  in  invitations,  dinner-cards, 
bills  of  fare,  and  so  on.     Or  an  American  poet 


might  be  chosen.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes 
would  furnish  lines  of  a  cheering  nature  fit  for 
mild  festivities ;  or  you  might  introduce  your 
guests  to  some  of  the  beautiful  poems  of  Celia 
Thaxter,  or  of  Jean  Ingelow,  if  you  do  not 
mind  going  outside  of  our  own  land. 

CUMULUS,  A  "Oh,  I  have  been  read- 

HEAP.  ifig  a  heap  of  books  lately." 

If  you  hear  this  said,  it  is  likely  that  it  is 
not  strictly  correct.  Certainly  the  language 
might  be  better,  but  the  idea,  too,  is  not  above 
improvement.  A  boy  who  would  speak  so  of 
his  reading  would  probably  be  nearer  the  truth 
if  he  said  he  had  been  reading  a  "  spatter"  of 
books,  for  the  chances  are  that  they  have  no 
more  relation  to  one  another  than  if  they  were 
spattering  drops  of  ink.  A  heap  of  books 
should  show  a  cumulative  effect ;  that  is,  each 
book  should  help  the  others. 

In  reading  good,  sound,  wholesome  litera- 
ture, your  reading  does  combine  together.  All 
good  authors  are  trying  to  teach  very  similar 
lessons,  just  as  good  men  and  women  find  it 
easy  to  agree.  They  need  not  quarrel,  for  all 
are  seeking  to  do  what  is  fair  to  one  another. 
It  is  the  self-seeking,  the  selfish,  who  find 
themselves  continually  clashing. 

Good  books,  therefore,  go  well  together, 
and  each  helps  to  deepen  the  impression  made 
by  the  rest.  Poor  books  are  very  much  like 
poor  marksmen :  they  send  their  shot  so  wide 
that  it  scatters  or  fails  to  hit  the  target. 

SHAKSPERE  While  we  do  not  know 

AND  SOME   MEN  so  much  about  the  life  of 

OF    HIS   TIME.        .,  ^,  ,  „      ^      . 

the  author  of  our  greatest 
literary  treasures,  enough  is  known  to  show 
that  Shakspere  was  different  from  many  other 
writers  of  plays  of  his  own  time.  He  seems 
to  have  led  so  quiet  and  hard-working  a  life 
that  he  has  made  little  impression  except  by 
the  words  of  his  pen.  Of  many  dramatists  of 
his  day  we  know  little  except  that  they  wasted 
their  time  and  talents.  The  really  great  wri- 
ters have  often  been  of  patient  industry,  and 
have   lived    as   wisely    as    they  have  written. 


114S 


BOOKS    AND    KKAOING 


I  149 


Certainly  it  is  not  positively  necessary  that  a 
genius  should  exhibit  his  great  powers  by  prov- 
ing he  is  lacking  in  common  sense.  Milton  is 
another  example  quite  as  encouraging.  The 
lives  of  Lowell  and  Longfellow,  of  Whittier  and 
Br)'ant,also  give  reason  for  thinking  good  poetry 
may  live  on  good  terms  with  practical  sense. 
BOOKS  IN  AVhile   it   is  certainly  a 

SERIES.  pretty  sight  to  see  a  long 

row  of  books  in  a  neat  and  uniform  binding, 
like  soldiers  on  parade,  there  is  a  distinct  loss 
of  individuality.  As  you  glance  over  your 
books  upon  their  shelves,  it  is  pleasant  to  recog- 
nize them  from  their  outward  dress.  They 
keep  themselves  better  in  mind  if  each  one  is 
not  exactly  like  its  neighbors.  You  are  even 
likely  to  forget  what  you  have  if  you  cannot 
know  them  from  across  the  room. 

We  often  go  t©  the  bookcase  looking  simply 
for  "  something  to  read,"  and  then  it  is  an  ad- 
vantage to  know  each  book  at  the  first  glance. 
Of  course  this  does  not  apply  so  strongly  to  the 
works  of  a  single  author.  These  belong  in  a 
uniform,  and  you  know  what  is  among  them. 
SELECTIONS  SoME   peoplc  find  great 

FROM  AUTHORS,  help  jn  collections  of  ex- 
tracts from  a  number  of  authors,  and  the  sales 
of  "  libraries  of  literature,"  and  so  on,  have 
been  very  large.  But  one  should  always  re- 
member that  tastes  differ  in  reading,  and  that 
the  editors  of  these  great  collections  may  have 
omitted  the  very  parts  of  an  author  that  would 
please  you  most.  Certain  poems,  plays,  and 
pieces  are  by  common  consent  admitted  to 
be  among  the  world's  best  literature ;  but  it 
does  not  follow  that  you  may  not  derive  more 
benefit  from  other  works  by  the  same  men. 
Besides,  until  a  great  writer  has  been  dead  at 
least  a  century  or  two,  it  is  by  no  means  cer- 
tain that  his  true  rank  is  rightly  fixed.  There 
have  been  great  changes  in  the  opinions  of 
even  the  best  critics.  It  is  an  author's  right  to 
have  your  own  judgment  of  his  work.  He 
writes  for  you  and  to  you,  in  the  hope  of 
reaching  your  mind,  and  he  asks  for  your 
opinion. 

Millet,  the  painter,  was  appreciated  by  only 
a  few  clever  men  for  many  years  before  the 
public  were  taught  that  he  was  a  great  artist. 
One    man    who   judged    for   himself  was  the 


American  painter  William  Hunt,  a  believer  in 
Millet  from  the  beginning. 

HOW  TO   TELL  PERHAPS     SOmC     of     yOU 

THE  DIFFERENCE,  very  modcst  young  readers 
will  say  that  you  cannot  always  tell  which  are 
the  good  books— that  is,  the  "really  worth 
while  "  books.  But  is  not  this  a  mistake  on 
your  part?  It  is  no  harder  to  tell  in  the  case 
of  books  than  in  the  case  of  talking,  and  you 
are  surely  able  to  tell  what  persons  you  meet 
have  something  to  say  that  is  worth  your  lis- 
tening. There  is  no  difliculty  in  deciding 
which  people  you  know  interest  you  most. 
The  trouble  lies  in  a  wrong  notion  young  read- 
ers may  have  about  the  best  bcoks.  They  are 
likely  to  forget  that  every  grown  person  has 
been  young.  Even  Homer  was  once  a  small  boy, 
and  no  doubt  played  with  wooden  swords  and 
spears,  probably  marching  up  and  down  and 
having  furious  combats  with  other  young 
Greeks.  The  ancient  Egyptian  little  girls  had 
their  dolls  and  their  toy  animals,  and  very 
likely  played  the  same  sort  of  games  with  them 
that  their  remote  successors  play.  Julius 
CsEsar  often  objected  to  being  sent  early  to 
bed,  and  Napoleon  Bonaparte  loved  snow- 
fights — they  must  have  done  so. 

Great  writers  are  great  because  they  can  feel 
with  us  all,  because  they  are  what  we  all  are. 
It  is  one  of  the  pleasures  of  growing  up  to  fiad 
out  how  we  all  had  the  same  fancies  and  beliefs 
when  we  were  little.  It  is  not  the  greatest  and 
best  WTiter  who  forgets  that  he  was  once  a 
child ;  and  some  of  the  most  interesting  and 
best  written  stories  in  the  world  are  within  the 
understanding  of  the  youngest  reader. 

»  „.,,.  „.,  That  the  dormouse  was 

A     NOTE    ON 

"ALICE  IN        supposed  to  be  sleepy  be- 
woNDERLAND."  ^^^^^   ^f  the '  French  ^or- 

meiise,  from  dormer,  to  sleep,  makes  plain 
the  behavior  of  one  of  the  guests  of  the  Mad 
Tea-party ;  but  the  reason  why  the  Hatter  was 
supposed  to  be  out  of  his  mind  is  not  so  readily 
given.  There  is  said  to  be  an  old  English 
word,  long  disused,  "  better,"  meaning  furious 
or  raging,  and  that  this  explains  the  saying  "as 
mad  as  a  hatter."  Some  think  the  word  comes 
from  "  atter,"  for  adder,  the  snake.  But  after 
consulting  the  authorities  ope  is  compelled  to 
doubt  whether  the  phrase  is  at  all  understood. 


THE    LETTER-BOX. 


EDITORIAL   NOTE. 

The  fine  drawing  on  page  1065  will  recall  to  young 
readers  of  St.  Nicholas  the  old  legend  of  the  Dutch 
captain  who,  homeward  bound,  met  with  long-continued 
head  winds  oif  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  but  who,  with 
Dutch  obstinacy,  vowed  that  "he  would  double  the 
cape  and  not  put  back,  if  he  strove  until  the  day  of 
doom."  He  is  supposed  to  have  been  taken  at  his  word, 
and  to  beat  forever  about  the  clouds  in  his  phantom  ship, 
but  never  to  succeed  in  rounding  the  point. 

There  are  other  versions  of  this  story,  and  several 
important  works  of  fiction  have  been  based  upon  the 
legend.  Perhaps  the  most  notable  of  these  are  the 
libretto  of  Richard  Wagner's  opera,  "The  Flying 
Dutchman,"  and  Captain  Marryat's  novel,  "The  Phan- 
tom Ship." 

Yokohama,  Japan. 

My  dear  St.  Nicholas  :  We  have  been  taking  you 
for  three  and  a  half  years,  and  like  you  very  much.  My 
sister  also  takes  you  with  me;  I  have  a  brother  too.  I 
am  American,  but  live  in  Japan ;  although  we  would 
rather  live  in  .\merica,  we  have  great  fun  out  here.  We 
are  going  to  have  a  show  to-day  and  to-morrow.  It  is 
"Beauty  and  the  Beast,"  and  is  to  be  in  our  house.  We 
have  made  a  stage  with  tea-boxes  and  boards  put  over 
them  and  then  rugs.  There  are  six  children  in  it  and 
one  lady,  who  is  our  governess.  We  have  a  magazine 
named  "The  Monthly  Mince-Pie."  We  draw  pictures 
for  it  and  write  prose  and  poetry. 

The  "Box  of  Curios,"  a  paper  out  here,  has  offered 
us  printed  programs  and  tickets  for  our  entertainment, 
and  also  asked  us  to  write  some  accounts,  poems,  or 
jokes  every  other  week  for  the  paper,  which  would  pay 
us  four  yen,  that  is,  two  American  dollars,  every  month. 

The  money  we  get  for  the  play  and  our  magazine  is 
going  to  the  poor  soldiers'  families. 

Your  loving  reader, 
He.nrietta  McIvor  (age  11). 


Greenville,  S.  C. 

Dear  St.  Nicholas;  I  have  taken  you  from  Febru- 
ary up  to  this  time,  and  like  you  very  mucli.  As  I 
have  never  before  written  to  you,  1  thought  that  1 
would  like  to  drop  you  a  few  lines. 

.\mong  your  poems  I  especially  like  "The  Cannibal 
Man  from  Chamboree." 

I  am  now  office  boy  for  my  father  and  enjoy  it  very 
much.  I  cipher  telegrams,  go  for  the  mail,  answer  the 
'phone,  and  put  things  in  order. 

I  have  a  subscription  to  you.     Your  faithful  reader. 
W.  O.  Dickinson. 


Benn'INcton,  Vt. 

Dear  St.  Nicholas;  I  am  a  member  of  the  League 
and  have  taken  you  for  five  or  six  years.  I  have  just 
returned  from  Europe,  where  I  spent  a  few  weeks  with 
papa  and  mama.  We  took  an  automobile  trip  through 
southern  England.  I  enjoyed  the  sea  voyage  very 
niucli  indeed.  Coming  home  we  saw  a  very  large  shoal 
of  porpoises,  and  another  time  a  large  whale. 

I  have  a  pony  and  a  dog  of  my  own.  Queenie,  my 
pony,  was  given  me  a  year  ago,  and  I  have  enjoyed  many 
long  and  delightful  rides  on  her  back.  She  is  nearly 
black  and  very  pretty.  She  is  also  very  spirited,  once 
having  run  away  with  my  sister. 

My  dog  Shamrock  is  an  Irish  terrier  (as his  namesug- 
gests).  He  is  only  a  year  old,  but  can  do  several  tricks 
when  he  wants  to,  all  of  which  I  taught  him. 

I  likeall  of  the  stories  in  the  St.  Nicholas,  but  I  am 
especially  interested  in  "  A  Comedy  in  Wax." 

Wishing  you  a  long  and  successful  life,  I  am, 
Your  affectionate  reader,      Susan  E.  Colgate. 


Ithaca,  N.  Y. 

Dear  St.  Nicholas  ;  I  enjoy  your  magazine  very 
much.     We  have  taken  it  about  six  years. 

I  have  been  looking  over  some  old  ones  that  my 
mother  took  in  1876,  and  I  found  some  little  French 
stories.  I  am  just  beginning  to  learn  German,  and  I 
wish  you  would  print  some  German  for  your  readers  to 
translate. 

I  am  ten  years  old,  and  I  am  a  member  of  the 
League. 

Daddy  has  each  volume  bound  as  soon  as  it  is  finished, 
and  we  read  them  over  and  over.    Your  devoted  reader, 

M.  W.  Pound. 


Wuchou,  China. 

Dear  St.  Nicholas  :  A  dear  friend  of  my  papa's  in 
America  sends  you  tome.  I  like  "  A  Comedy  in  Wax  " 
very  much,  and  "  Two  Little  New  York  Maids." 

I  could  not  tell  you  how  much  I  love  the  St. 
Nicholas.  My  pets  are  seven  hens,  one  rooster,  and 
one  old  turkey ;  we  have  seven  big  pigeons  and  three 
little  ones,  and  the  mother  of  these  h.as  two  more  eggs, 
and  in  a  week  we  will  have  two  little  baby  pigeons. 

My  little  sister  and  I  play  with  our  pets  a  great  deal, 
and  we  feed  them  every  morning;  they  know  us  quite 
well.  I  have  three  sisters  and  no  brother.  Two  of  them 
are  in  America  at  school  in  Mount  Vernon.  The  oldest, 
Bessie,  is  fifteen,  and  the  next  is  Mary— she  is  thirteen. 
My  little  sister  is  four;  her  name  is  Frances.  I  miss 
my  two  big  sisters  very  much. 

There  are  only  Chinese  children  to  play  with  here. 

With  lots  of  love  to  the  St.  Nicholas  and  authors, 
I  remain. 

Your  loving  reader,         Grace  McCoy. 


Danville,  Ky. 
Dear  St.  Nicholas:  While  reading  your  May  num- 
ber I  saw  the  article  telling  how  to  make  a  canoe.  I 
thought  I  could  make  one,  taking  th.at  as  a  model,  and 
I  got  the  lumber  and  began  on  it  at  once.  It  turned  out 
so  nicely  that  I  thought  I  would  write  to  you  and  tell 
you  about  it.  Last  week  another  boy  and  I  went  out 
on  a  river  a  few  miles  from  our  home,  and  took  a  trip 
down  the  river  and  camped  out  all  night.  The  canoe 
held  us  and  a  large  camping  outfit  comfortably.  The 
only  alterations  from  your  model  which  I  made  were 
that  I  did  n't  make  any  rudder,  and  I  used  two  layers 
of  blue-edged  drill  instead  of  the  No.  10  duck.  I  am 
sixteen  years  old,  and  I  made  everything  about  the  boat 
with  my  own  hands. 

Yours  truly,         Robert  Harbison. 


ANSWIKS   TO   I'UZZLES   IN    IHE  SEPTEMBER   NUMBF.R. 


Owner.     3.    Annie.     4.   Seize. 


WoRD-SQt'ARa.      1.   Coast. 
5.  T'rees. 

Charade.    Bar-gain. 

Co.NNECTED  Word-squares.  I.  i.  Baby.  2.  Aloe.  3.  Bowl. 
4.  Velk.  II.  I  Pole  j.  Open.  3.  Lend.  4.  Ends  III.  1. 
Kine.  3.  Idol.  3.  Nook.  4.  Elks.  IV.  i.  Idle.  2.  Deed.  3. 
Lead.     4.  Eddy.     V.   1.  Stab.     2.  Tape.     3.  Apes.     4.  Rest. 

Traveling  Puzzle.  Chicago,  goblin,  lini-ncnt,  enthusiast, 
aster,  error,  orator,  orchard,  ardent,  entrap,  approve,  Venice. 

Illustrated  Acrostic.  Second  row.  Labor  Day.  i.  Alba- 
tross. 2.  Badger.  3.  Ibex.  4.  Horse.  5.  Oriole.  6.  Adju- 
tant.    7-   Mastlft*.     8    Hyena. 

Diagonals.  I.  I^bor  Day.  i.  Labrador.  2.  Marigold.  3. 
February.  4.  Caroline.  5.  Cowering.  6.  Sheridan.  7.  Ameri- 
can.    8.    Roscmar>-.     IL    Old  Glory,      i.    Organist,     a.    Florence 


(Nightingale).      3.    Redoubts.      4.    An.igrams.      5.    Civilize.     6. 
Nionotone.     7.   Burglary.     8.  Thursday. 

Novel  Acrostic.  Initials,  Autumn :  second  row,  August 
Cross-words:  i.  Atoll.  2.  Usage.  3.  Turban.  4.  Ugly.  5.  Muse. 
6.  Nape. 

Literary  Numerical  Enigma. 
Cnn  the  poets,  in  the  rapture  of  their  finest  dreams, 
Paint  the  lily-of-the-valley  fairer  than  she  seems  ? 
Double  Acrostic.    Primals,  Virginia;  finals,  Richmond.  Cross- 
words:  I.  Ventilator.     2.  Irawudi.     3.  Roc.     4.  Garish.     5.  Idiom. 
6.   No.     7.   Indiiin.     8.  Add. 


Transpositions  a.nd    Zigzag. 
2.  Rams,  Mars.     3.  L.imc,  meal. 
6.   Leap,   plea.     7.   Race,  acre. 
10.   Muse,  emus.     11.   Tics,  site. 


Samuel  Adams,    i.   Lows,  slow. 

4.  Stud,  dust.     5.  T'ime,  emit. 

[.    Door,  odor.     9.   Maid,  amid. 


To  OUR  Puzzlers  :  Answers,  to  be  acknowled^red  in  the  magazine,  must  be  received  not  later  th.nn  the  15th  of  each  month,  and 
should  be  addressed  to  Sr.  Nicholas  Riddle-box,  care  of  The  Century  Co.,  33  East  Seventeenth  St.,  New  York  Cily. 

Answers  to  all  the  Puzzles  in  the  July  Nu.mber  were  received,  before  lulv  iqih.  from  Marian  A   Smi 
Li 
Brainerd  - 

Pair  of  r  ^ 

Nessieand  Freddie  —  Lillian  Burson —  Laura  S.  Dow — Catharine  Hooper — Gwyneth  N.  Pennethornc. 

Answers  to  Puzzles  in  the  July  Number  were  received  before  July  isih,  from  D.  Dinsmore,  i  —  H.  A.  Hedge,  r  —  E.  Holyoke, 
1— E.  Stafford,  i— A.  E.  SussdorflT.  1  —  R.  M  Linnell,  i  —  S.  Ehnch,  i  — D.  Robinson,  i— J.  C.  Watt,  i  — M.  Garrett,  i  — Chrislina 
B.    Fiskc,    2— A.  E.   Kingman.    1— A.   Hannelt,  i  — C    J.    Hover,   i  —  M.   Cragin.  2— James   Harvey  Mohr,  3 —M.    Murrish,  i  -  R. 

C    Bates.  I — R.  H.  Eddincfield.  1  — F.   A.  Roberts.  1  — A.  VV.  Robinson,   i  —  D.   Crounse.  t  — L.   P.    Fiskc.  i L.   B.   Westgate.  1 

Catherine  H.  Steel,  u  —  Harriet  Bingaman,  6— E.  F.  H.arrin|;ton.  3— M.  L.  Holmes,  i  — P  I.  C.irpenter,  i  — F  Rice  i  —  D  Sage 
1  —  Margaret  C.  Wilbv,  9  -Evelyn  Goodrich  Patch,  8  —  Edward  Bc-ntley,  1  —  U.  DilLty,  i  —  M".  McConncll,  i  —  W.  R.  Nelson,  i—  L. 
Williams,  i  —  M.ary  Elizabeth  Mair,  8— Myrtle  Aldcrson,  8  — Volant  \'.  B.ill.ird,  8  —  E.  Rcinhart,  i  — John  Farr  Simons.  8  — 
Katharine  Bell.  2  —  L.   M.  Taggart,  i  — I-eonard  Swain,  3  —  R.  Gates,  I  — Elizabeth  D.  Lord,  9— M    R    Smiley,  t. 


CHARADK. 

We  read  in  caverns  gloomy 
Myyf''J/ lives  underground; 
'T  is  in  the  daily  papers 
My  /ast  is  always  found. 
My  whole  is  wandering  ever  - 
Moves  on  in  ceaseless  round. 
HELEN  . 


of  length.     12.    Triply  bche.id  and  curtail  a  depraved 
person,  and  leave  to  steal  from. 

The  initials  of  the  twelve  liltle  words  will  spell  the 
name  of  a  pleasant  season  of  the  year. 

ERWI.N'   JANOWITZ. 

OBtlQlJE  KECTANGLK. 

(Gold  Badge,  St.  Nicholas  League  Competition.) 


TRIPLE  BEHEADINGS  AND  ClTRTArLINGS. 

{Silver  Badge,  St.  Nicholas  League  Competition.) 

Example:  Triply  behead  and  curtail  a  river  of  the 
United  Slates  and  leave  thus.     Answer:   Mis-so-uri. 

I.  Triply  behead  and  curtail  kinship,  and  leave  not 
out.  2.  Triply  behead  and  curtail  greatness  of  size, 
and  leave  the  egg  of  an  insect.  3.  Triply  behead  and 
curtail  full  of  tendons,  and  leave  clamor.  4.  Triply 
behe.id  and  curtail  to  waver,  and  leave  sick.  5.  Triply 
behead  and  curtail  to  make  a  road  with  small,  broken 
stones,  and  leave  ihe  name  of  the  first  creatid  man. 
6.  Triply  behead  and  curtail  a  very  remarkable  occur- 
rence, and  leave  a  cape  in  Alaska.  7.  Triply  behead 
and  curtail  conciseness,  and  leave  a  Japanese  coin. 
8.  Triply  behead  and  curtail  superfluous,  and  leave  the 
German  word  for  **and."  9.  Triply  behead  and  curtail 
briefly,  and  leave  to  deface.  10.  Triply  behead  and 
curtail  a  poetical  division  of  verse  consisting  of  three 
mea-urcs,  and  leave  a  personal  pronoun.  II.  Triply 
behead  and  curtail  tending  to  repel,  and  leave  a  measure 


I.  A  LETTER.  2.  A  boy.  3.  A  satire.  4. 
5.  A  form  of  action  for  the  recovery  of  a 
chaltcl  wrongfully  detained.  6.  Merciful.  7 
governesses.  8.  To  exall.  9.  Tabulating, 
hurl, 
letter. 


Clothed. 

personal 

Spanish 

10.    To 

.  The  abbreviation  for  a  famous  island.     12.  A 

MIRIAM    C.  GOULD.       ■ 


II52 


THE    RIDDLE-BOX. 


> 


..23.. 

Cross-words,     i.    .■\n   out- 
door   merrymaking.       2.    The 
mouth  of  a  volcano.     3.   A  se- 
vere trial.     4.   For  some  time. 
5.    A    legislative   body.      6.    A 
basket  made  of  rushes  in  which 
figs  are  imported.     7.   Conflict. 
8.  To  graft  by  uniting.     9.  Ha- 
tred.     10.    Powerful. 
From  I  to  2,  a  place  taken  from 
the  British  by  the  Americans  in  May, 
1775  ■>  from  3  to  4,  the  colonel  of  the 
"Green  Mountain  Boys." 

WILMOT  T.  CLOSE  (League 
Member). 

DOUBLE    ACROSTIC. 

My  primals  and  finals  each  spell  the  sur- 
name of  an  American  author. 

Cross-words  (of  equal  length):  l.  -Any- 
thing worshiped.  2.  A  city  in  Nevada.  3. 
Outlook.  4.  Unemployed.  5.  Part  of  the 
hand.     6.  A  measure  of  capacity. 

RieHARD  B.  THOMAS  (League 
Member). 

nlAGONAl.. 

{GoM Badgt,  St.  Nicholas  League  Competition.) 

All  of  the  words  described  contain  the 
same  number  of  letters.  When  rightly 
guessed  and  written  one  below  another,  the  diagonal 
(beginning  with  the  upper  left-hand  letter  and  ending 
with  the  lower  right-hand  letter)  will  spell  the  name  of 
an  American  engineer  and  inventor. 

Cross-words:  i.  Controllable.  2.  A  word  of  many 
sylUibles.  3.  Underground.  4.  Negligence.  5.  A  cur- 
rent below  the  surface.     6.   A  horsewoman.     7.   Having 


Mvyfrj/j-  are  in  teams,  but  not 

in  feed ; 
My  seconds  in  Arabs,  but  not  in 

Swedes ; 
My  thirds  are  in  reindeer,  but 

not  in  boar  ; 
tAy  fourths  are  in  captain,  but 

not  in  war  ; 
My  fifths  are  in  stranger,  but 

not  in  friend  ; 
My  sixths  are  in  follow,  but  not 

in  wend  ; 
My   sex'enths   are  in  lend  and 

send  arid  mend. 
My  wholes  are  three  capitals  in 

the  United  States. 

CLI.N'TON   H.  SMITH. 

CONNECTED    SQUARES. 


#    #    #    » 


L  Upper  Left-hand  Square:  i.  .A. 
heavenly  body.    2.  Separated  by  violence. 

3.  Surface.     4.  To  harvest. 
IL  Upper  Right-hand  Square:    i. 

One  of  the  books  of  the  Bible.     2.    To 
stare  at  impudently.    3.  A  feminine  name. 

4.  Lank. 
HL  Ce.ntral  Square:  i.  A  frame  (or 

holding  pictures.    2.  .\  common  fruit.    3. 
A  twig.    4.  A  feminine  name.    5.   Lawful. 

IV.  Lower  Left-hand  Square:  i. 
A  Biblical  name.  2.  .\  bundle  or  package 
of  goods  in  a  cloth  cover,  and  corded  for 
transportation.     3.   Certain  trees.     4. 

V.  Lower  Right-hand  Square:  i.  .\  merry-an 
drew.  2.  A  genus  of  succulent  plants  found  in  warn 
countries.  3.  A  feminine  name.  4.  The  period  occu 
pied  by  the  earth  in  making  its  revolution  around  thi 
sun.  AGNES  R.  LANE  (League  Member). 

;  'TIC. 


For  fear  that. 


THE   DE   VINNE   PRESS,  NEW   YORK.